I Will Find You
by lonelyiridescence
Summary: Hook/Emma (Captain Swan) Hook's hunt for his blond deserter after she abandons him at the top of the beanstalk. This is a story of how they will find one another, and themselves. Writer's note: This began as a singular drabble that evolved into a larger story. Chapters at the beginning are short.
1. Chapter 1

He stared at the ground hard, eyes raking the crevices between the smooth stones. His breath came in wisps before his eyes, short and furious and nearly a pant with a guttural growl in the back of his throat.

That_ bitch_. That brash, insufferable, bitch.

He admired it. It was hard to discern the burning through his veins as hatred or magnetism. It was difficult not to let her name and the cruel twist of her mouth as she turned away scream through his thoughts and coil his muscles in preparation for attack.

He could taste the salt on her skin when he mended her wound, the sharpness of rum in his nostrils where his nose grazed her palm. He felt the searing anger accentuate the bite of cold metal in his wrist, restrained by the handcuff.

_She had been in love too._

Whatever his reputation was, swashbuckling pirate, trickster, wicked murderer…

He sensed she shared that kind of lost wrongdoing as he did. He'd said it himself, he was the worst kind of human there was.

He'd killed the love of his life. And there she was without hers. As she stared at him and betrayed the haunted eyes that he refused to acknowledge were his own.

He would hunt her. He would hunt her down and press his knife up against her throat and push his face right up to hers.

He would hunt her and gut her and she would scream his name.

Swan. He was coming for her.


	2. Chapter 2

He dropped to all fours as he leapt a short ways up from the beanstalk, breathing hard through his nose. To his right, he noted a deep gash in the green chords of the plant. Sauntering over, he ran his fingers along the edges of the lacerated emerald flesh, noting the strength of steel and the brute force thrown into the offense. He believed it to be the warrior-like one, Mulan was it?

The gash still oozed with plant material towards the center, catching the light of a sinking sun. As he turned away and tilted his face to the sky he noted that they couldn't be more than a few hours gone.

A game.

He'd always adored games. Cleverly put together things. This one was begged a crimson stain to gild his blade at the end. The interesting part was that his odds were in fact the best, because whether it was the old bat or the beautiful savior of the realm that fell to their knees before him, he would have his way to Storybrooke.

He could only win.

But why shouldn't he enjoy himself along the way? Following the Swan woman seemed to be the most enjoyable path. Catching her long blond tresses between his teeth and pulling her close to bite her with the edge of a dagger. Oh no it would be enjoyable to hunt and toy with his prey.

She had been foolish not to trust him. Clearly it would have been advantageous to have someone who knew Cora's whereabouts and expectations. But it truly was the smartest thing he'd seen someone do.

Trust no one. Their blade would as soon crack open your ribcage and kiss your heart as soon as yours could tongue their skin.

But he had begun to trust that she could take him to he needed to go. She was hard. She was cold and she let nothing stand between her and her goal. His flirtatious facade had dropped early on. It was not in him to taunt one who had been scarred by love. Her eyes had blinked silver with memory, a look he too desperately needed to know was not simply his own weakness.

Maybe he needed to find her. But he wasn't so sure why anymore.

And she was the fierce that lit the bone white drippings of dusk with the fire of a dying day. She painted his world scarlet around the edges.

Oh yes. He would find her.

Tick tock. The distance between them would close as the second hand sprinted forward. Tick tock. Let the games begin.


	3. Chapter 3

The firelight played gracefully around the slightly curled tips of her hair, long tresses of molten silver blond down the stiffness of her shoulders. What Emma would give for a hot shower and some coffee. She'd taken first watch that night… partially out of apology for causing a fight with Mary Margret— her mother and Mulan… partially because she couldn't be too careful.

Alright, so maybe she was paranoid. She'd gone over her decision thrice already in her head, counting out the variables, making sure that she had given them enough of a head start so that he couldn't catch up. Emma sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to reassure herself that they weren't being closely followed, that the compass tucked in an inner jacket pocket was completely safe.

But if… just if she'd somehow made a mistake and put them in danger, she would own up to it and be the one to meet him. Eye to eye. That stormy gray tinged with the greens of an angry sea, the smell of rum and salt. He intimidated her. Especially the way he'd screamed her name, voice rough and raw with tangible hatred. She could hear the cracking and rasping, almost like he was begging her beneath the cruel anger. His voice sounded like worn leather pulled taught and suffocating around her nose and mouth.

She shivered and tried to force the fear back.

She hated letting people down in the end. She hated being a disappointment and helpless all her life. So she wouldn't be. Simple as that.

* * *

_She stared up at the giant, eyes defiant as he sort of… pouted at her. One more request… what did she even want?_

_Emma wanted to get back to Henry._

_And she needed to make sure nothing got in her way, namely a too slick captain who made her unbelievably wary. _

_"Give me a second to think about it. I don't want jewels or gold." she huffed and let her line of vision trace the tip of her shoe._

_Her interaction with… Captain Hook… had been interesting. He wasn't the big-nosed, obsessive villain in the stories of her childhood. He was dangerously charismatic, smelling of brine and nimble in leather. And she knew he was deadly with a blade._

_And he had eyes that could pierce anyone bloody with trust. But his odd, dark chivalry reminded her of who's side he had been on and how easily his lies and pretenses could mean that she was stuck in this place forever. Curiosity drove her to find out more about his past, and her instinct told her that every single word was truth._

_But hey, even she could be wrong, though it nagged at the back of her mind that her instinct had never failed her._

_So her compulsory instinct drove her to do him a kindness that even she couldn't grasp the reason to._

_"Hey!" she watched as the giant turned to her with a look of impatience, "That man I was traveling with. Can you guarantee me that you will not hurt him?"_

_The giant looked slightly miffed, "If he does not try to hurt me, why not?"_

_She took herself by surprise again when she spoke, "No. I want a straight up answer. Right now. Will Hook come to harm if I leave him here? I'm literally saying that you will not lay a finger on him, you will let him go without any obstruction. I need to know he will be okay."_

_The recent discovery of his misfortunes played on repeat as the driving force behind her words. Evil was evil, but evil had suffered. Everyone cheated, lied, and stole for a reason. She knew this better than anyone and it made her care for him—… about his past. And besides, he wasn't the typical evil._

_The giant nodded and stared expectantly, "Alright alright I swear. Now what exactly do you want?"_

_Emma gave him a hard look, "Time."_

* * *

She knew she'd made a mistake in letting him live. Emma bit back regret as she clenched her teeth at the idea that even her own wits wouldn't be enough to outsmart him.

He was too much like her. And that was the most dangerous part.

Had she been in love? With Neil. With Graham.

But no one quite slipped ice cold metal between her ribs like the devious Captain Hook.

And for the first time in years, Emma Swan was truly afraid.


	4. Chapter 4

The squelch of mud beneath her boots made Emma tense. If this was a fairy tale rainstorm it wasn't anywhere near a misty sprinkle that coated everything with a sparkling dew. The downpour had been sudden and heavy, continuing to shower downward violently. The water fell in sheets so thick that visibility wasn't much far past her own two feet. Darkness hung between the tree trunks and gloated eerily at her.

She shivered and put a hand to her forehead, cringing at the bite of her icy hand turning to see Mary Margret helping Aurora clamber over a moss covered rock and Mulan leap nimbly over a fallen tree trunk.

Judging by the glare that her mother gave her she knew they should stop and try to take cover. The way her clothes clung heavily to her back and the shaking in her hands told her she needed to stop. The water in her eyes and numbing her skin told her she needed to stop. The haunted expression on her face mirrored by her companions told her she needed to stop.

But in her drenched and thoroughly exhausted state, adrenaline almost kept her staggering upright, screaming through her veins that she needed to continue. He was hunting her, and she knew without a doubt he would find her.

She froze, whipping her head to the right when a slight touch brushed over her shoulder, brandishing Jack's sword. It was Mary Margret.

"Emma. Enough. Aurora needs a break." her mother frowned unconvincingly at her, rain making her eyes dark with worry, "This is the third day you've pushed forward like this— it's like you think we're being chased!"

She stared back blankly, the numbness converting the words into hollow syllables, "You guys can stop if you need. I'll go scout ahead."

Emma made to push past but a restraining hand was placed on her shoulder, "Can you please just hold on a minute? I want to know what's going on! We're trudging through the forest in the rain at a practical run and you can't even give us a reason why?"

The tones in Mary Margaret's voice dug into her short breath and forced Emma to turn. The rain slid down the petite woman's cheeks and neck in a sheen of false tears, the furrow in her brown shiny with water. She looked almost frightened.

"I'm fine. You should rest." she tried smiling but only managed a tired grimace.

"No. Emma you are not. I try to understand but you're hurting more than just yourself with this, Aurora is not as physically—"

"If you are so worried about your sleeping princess then go back and help her!" she snapped cruelly, immediately regretting the hurt that spread over Mary Margaret's expression as she released Emma's arm.

Her mother turned away and began walking, calling behind her shoulder steadily, "If this is something that happened between you and Hook, I'm here to listen. But don't take this out on me."

She watched her disappear as the rain parted a curtain for her to stalk away, and Emma sighed, leaning up against a tree trunk. She buried her face in her hands and cursed.

An apology would have to happen soon. Mary Margaret was doing so much for her already, and all she could give in return was snide retorts and exhausting all of them. But Emma was frustrated and tired, and what bothered her the most was the fact that it was completely self-inflicted.

She was being ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. Hook was not going to come and attack them, and even if he did, three of them were at least somewhat practiced in fighting. She felt slightly better, less harried and on edge. Her timid self-reassurances had no effect whatsoever however… on the guilt.

She left him behind while he begged her. Because she was too stubborn to trust. She really couldn't do anything right.

At first she thought the uneven splashes were just a heavier rainfall, but as they got closer and louder she realized they were footsteps. They sounded somewhat tentative.

"Hey. I'm sorry." she said, hoping Mary Margaret would accept the apology and lead her back to camp for a too-long-coming rest.

A warm body pressed up against her, for a moment ameliorating the chill, and then she smelled salt and rum and felt soft hands like warm leather over hers.

"Is that remorse I hear, love?" his sultry growl in her ear was white hot, contrasting the bite of a dagger against her side.

The blood spilled hot over the ground as the rain fell.


	5. Chapter 5

Were people supposed to remain motionless for that long? His frown made it uncomfortable to sit still, instead forcing him to pace back and forth. He held the dagger between his teeth and bit down hard, using his freed hand to check the knots on the ropes, taking care to tighten them and assure her immobilization. He took a second glance at where the cords already caused angry redness to blossom outward from the offense, and smirked at how fragile she really was.

She was no savior. And that was what was so strange to Hook; she was so ill suited for the role.

What frustrated him was why he hadn't just let her bleed. The wound was deep, the cut jagged as red ran over his hands and remained thick regardless of the rain. She fell forward into him with a curse and he caught next moments were a blur of splashing as her head lolled against his forearm, her body pressed to his chest.

Every fiber in him screamed_ save her. You need her._

To skin a crocodile of course.

Hook's lithe fingers stopped at her waist, taking care to part the ropes slightly so that he could unwind the bandages around her waist and reveal the grotesque laceration that still glistened wet with gore. It was a sort of perverse satisfaction that accompanied the cringe at the damage he had done. Bound to a tree or not she wasn't going anywhere. He had her. He could exact his revenge any way he chose.

And that was power to him, control of a ship on a stormy tempest, or over a duel.

He feared that this duel might be one he couldn't win. But for now he had the upper hand, and she remained unarmed. Of course he should have the advantage, scumbags would cut anyone down after all.

As his fingers brushed over the white skin around the wound, he felt her tense and he flinched backwards, finding her staring at him coldly.

She winced tone metallic and unquestioning, "What are you doing, Hook."

His initial look of confusion swiftly dissolved into a confident smile. He lifted her chin up with the tip of his dagger and took odd comfort in her frown, "Sneaky. So you were awake my lady?"

She twisted away, never once breaking her glare, "I'm not your—"

He cut her off with a chuckle, "Quite short with someone who has a blade aren't we?"

He was slightly surprised when she chose to smile sweetly at him, "You mean for someone who didn't even use it correctly? And cut the gentleman act, it's annoying."

He scoffed, "What do you mean didn't use it correctly? I recall it bit quite easily into your side. Your open wound… would most likely be the evidence of it." He motioned towards her torso.

She laughed with false brightness, "You don't want to kill me. I don't have a clue why, but you don't." She sounded almost like she was taunting.

He tried to mask his anger with a smile, but only managed a cruel grimace, "What if I want a little plaything?"

He strode up to her and pinned her against the tree, both hand and hook on either side of her face body plastered to hers. He ignored her whimper of pain as he placed pressure against her injured side, feeling the sound tug a crooked smirk on the right side of his lips.

"You don't know the things I've done to my prisoners Emma Swan. You can't… _imagine_."

His fingers clawed away her jacket, sliding up beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, leaving a trail of goose flesh where his warm touch kneaded into her icy white skin.

"I was the captain of a pirate ship. I was the thing of horror stories. I was a killer, a rapist, a plunderer."

His other hand tangled in her loose hair, pulling it painfully around the smooth metal hook.

"I am a monster and I am a hunter and you made a mistake leaving me behind."

He crushed his mouth to hers, effectively gagging her snide reply. The contact was furious, brusing, painful with every word he hissed against her lips. He drew blood when he sucked at her mouth, clicked his teeth against hers, growled throat against throat.

And she uttered a quiet laugh and let him have his way.

And then he pulled away and stood their, harsh breathing echoing against the quiet of the forest.

She smiled again, same sugary sweetness that made him sick to his stomach, "You. Don't want. To kill me." She was breathing just as hard.

Hook whipped out his dagger and pressed it against her throat, closing the distance again.

She whispered in his ear, "You won't do it."

His next laugh was slightly hysterical, dark, and dangerous. He painstakingly slowly put pressure against her skin until it broke and lapped crimson over the metal's edge. She remained still up until he made to press further, then released a restrained gasp of fear. It was all he needed.

He leapt away and appraised his prisoner triumphantly, "You are right to fear me. And you cannot hide it."

"No," she snarled, "I'm right to be scared of death. You're no different than any other man out there. And like I said, you won't kill me."

Oddly enough, the furious anger left him quite suddenly. He only felt drained.

Hook glared hard at her, "And you are unlike any woman I've met to this date. So brava Emma. Keep your life for tonight my dear."

Tonight the match ended in a draw.


	6. Chapter 6

They arrived at the shambling village ridiculously early in the morning on their third day of trekking through the forest. The full myriad of stars still clung stubbornly to the blackness of sky, indicating that it was around one AM. Emma hissed as Hook pushed her roughly against a post and secured her to it.

After he'd relieved her of the giant's compass and tucked it safely in a breast pocket, the entire trip had been a rabble of obnoxious taunting on both their parts. Initially, the snide retorts and cruel verbal lashes were genuine, often boiling over to the point where neither of them would speak, fuming in silence. But as time melded into the second and third day, their arguments became ways to pass the time, almost like a contest. Emma began to realize just what she could say to make his mouth turn downwards and his brow to furrow, and he was just as sharp of tongue with his snappish replies.

She noted that he hadn't touched her since their… episode on the first night. He remained a distance away, leering at her from behind as they walked. Emma couldn't understand why it bothered her.

But as the sun set on day three, Hook had become quiet, ignoring her jeering and pressing on in eerie silence. It unsettled her, the uncharacteristic change in demeanor made her wary of his intent. That's how Emma figured they were almost there. She guessed he was taking her to Cora.

It looked like they'd arrived at his intended destination, yet it puzzled her when they were greeted with a still deserted wreckage.

She gave him a sideways glare, "I'm starting to think you don't know where you're going. Where's your evil witch?"

He leaned his back up against an adjacent rock and closed his eyes, "Get some sleep. That's what I intend to do first."

She frowned at his clipped tone, "So you're not here to take me to your leader? I don't even understand why you've got me here in the first place then if you don't want to kill me… I mean what's even the point if—"

"Emma." he growled, seeming to swell slightly with anger, "We, are here to wait for Cora. You, are here because I brought you here. And if you don't kindly go to sleep I will knock you out myself so help me."

She flinched back slightly at the severity of his words, returning to the genuine disgust in his meaning like in the first few days. She turned away from him and closed her eyes, wondering what drove him to be so easily aggravated.

As she let her mind drift, floating somewhere in between consciousness and dreams, she began to realize things she had avoided thinking about. Emma felt comfortable. And as incredibly stupid as it was, she felt safe. But it made her anxious how at ease she felt in Hooks presence, knowing that he was the only thing that currently prevented her from returning to Henry.

She stirred slightly when she heard a low, smooth wine melody wind its way through her thoughts, sounding lonely and barbed with pain. Hook was humming softly beside her. He sounded so… human, so vulnerable she almost forgot he was the bad guy. It dragged her deeper under, coaxing sleep.

She needed to figure out a way to get that compass back and get away. Mostly before she found it too hard to want to leave.

* * *

The sun burned soft pink into her vision beneath her eyelids as she slowly shifted and resurfaced from a good sleep. But most notably she was shocked into alertness by a periodic thump that rang through the morning quiet, cacophonously resonating in her ears.

She turned and immediately found that she was covered with his jacket, the warm leather smelling strongly of the ocean. She gently lifted it off herself and stood, realizing also that he'd given her bonds some slack so that she could get up and walk around, though still attached to the post. But what drew her attention was Hook himself.

He was defacing the thick trunk of a huge oak, swinging blow after blow with his sword and hoarsely grunting each time the momentum ended in impact. Bare chested, his skin was dusty and shiny with sweat, the easily defined movement of muscles on his back stretching and contracting with every raised stroke.

She felt a warm blush bloom over her ears and neck, wanting to turn away but held captive by the primal hatred and pain on his features. His expression was one of desperation, seeming to be unaware that he was being watched, working tirelessly at his pointless task.

She spoke up, voice cracking slightly from grogginess and question, "It's not going to fight back you know?"

The crack of splitting wood halted suddenly, Hook turning around to appraise her mid-blow, "Thank you for your observation my dear." His words were colored with snide sarcasm, the slightly hoarse quality betraying bottomless hurt that she recognized but couldn't comprehend.

"I don't want to pretend to know what's going on, but at least cut the tree some slack? I'm sure it isn't the reason for whatever is making you do this." she hated to admit it but she was curious.

He stuck the tip of the sword into the ground and leaned his weight on the pommel, "Well you don't have to pretend to know if I tell you. Isn't that what all evil villains do? Tell their life story? Give themselves a little humanity?"

She snorted, "Are you going to remind me that you're a scumbag again? Not that it's not true but I get the feeling that you seem to remind yourself all the time."

"I am one lass. And I need to remind myself. Especially today."

Emma's eyes traced the spongy white flesh of the tree, noting the jagged cuts and the mess of wood scraps around his feet, "Do I get to know why?"

He stared at her hard, "Today, she died."

Silence fell between them. His gaze remained locked to her face, frozen to where he stood. The anger in his eyes she finally understood was entirely self loathing.

"Talk to me. Maybe it's time to tell someone." she saw his lips raise up in a snarl and she tensed, afraid she'd caused him to snap again.

Instead he calmly replied, "Her name was Milah." He stared hard at the ground, dusting aside a few wood chips with his boot, "She was Rumplestiltskin's wife… before he was… the dark one. But one day while we were in port, she shared some drinks with my crew and I. We fell in love. I stole her away on some carefully told lies. He came back."

She watched him turn away and grab his hook behind his head with his free hand, tilting his head up to face the sky, "And he pulled out her heart. She died in my arms—"

Emma finished for him, "And so you made it your goal to skin a crocodile."

He roughly snatched up his shirt and walked over, pulling it over his head, "Brilliant deduction, love. So now you have me all figured out, do you have any burning questions?"

He caught the tip of her chin under his hook and she felt the cold metal curve press uncomfortably against her throat, "You'll have to excuse my impoliteness, I am not very fond of today, so like the gentleman I am I apologize for any hurt I cause you.. that is, of course, not deserved."

Her smile was gentle and genuine, making his wide smirk falter slightly, "I feel sorry for you. It doesn't make you any less despicable… but for all it's worth, I know what it's like."

He sneered, "I don't need your pity… You look like you want to say something else, Swan."

"Why work with Cora now? If you want to make things right, you should probably stop working with the bad guy."

He laughed mirthlessly and placed his lips by her ear. His voice broke when he spoke.

"Because you let me down."


	7. Chapter 7

Securing his hook around the stout protrusion of a tree branch, Hook leaned his weight outward slightly at first, then fully once he was sure in the security of his balance. The expanse of the enchanted forest spread green winged disappointment before him. It was the prevalent discomfort of being constantly watched. He had no doubt that Cora was arriving soon… and he worried that his growing hesitance and wariness would stop him just short of his goal. He'd been waiting too long… from Neverland to the present. So he'd given up on waiting.

So with the slant of afternoon light he decided to conclude his harried scouting excursion and return to the village. Quickly descending his perch, Hook hit the ground softly and straightened himself out, pausing to check his surroundings one more time for any trace of her. The odd thing was that though he set out to find Cora, he dreaded encountering her at all.

His thoughts drifted continually to where he had camped, irrepressible worry about the state of his prisoner snagging any train of thought. Especially the ones that involved handing Cora the compass. The notion of it… disturbed him.

He had lost control before her earlier that morning. He had decimated the barriers he so neatly folded himself behind. He hated her for it, for seeing his humanity. For not judging him like the worthless trash he was.

It was disgusting, he was disgusting himself… He felt himself slipping from the frosted hatred of the world. He felt himself softening.

He would never get to Storybrooke at his rate. He needed to carry out the deal and accomplish what he'd spent the past years of his life seething and wasting away over.

Hook stepped out into the clearing caught sight of Emma staring blankly at the ground with a worried pinch in her brow. As he neared she looked up, relaxing and standing, walking towards him until the rope pulled taut and stopped her in her tracks. He had the odd urge to smile.

He strode up to her and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, earning him a glare as she shrugged away from him, "You're giving me an odd look. What, Swan, did you miss me that much?"

He dragged the metal hook slowly down the curve of her neck to her shoulder, letting the sharp tip linger, "No need to fret I was just trying to find the old bat. We've dragged this on long enough haven't we? I'm impatient, I'm so close to having my portal."

She exhaled sharply in dismissal, "Can I ask you something?"

"You already did, love."

She nearly cut him off, obviously having been musing long before he'd returned, "You had to have seen it coming."

He raised an eyebrow, "What?"

She seemed to take a minute to arrange her thoughts, "Me. Ditching you for the compass. You're not that gullible… or maybe I'm overestimating you."

He walked around her but she followed close behind causing an involuntary chuckle to escape, "Is this guilt I'm hearing? What, did my little temper tantrum this morning change something?"

He'd walked over to the post and tugged the knots securing the rope to the wood free, leaving Emma's hands bound but allowing her freedom to move around, the rope slack on the ground.

She stared with slight disbelief, "What are you doing?"

Walking over to the fire pit, he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall, "I'm a bit sick of of having to bring things to you like a child. You won't be getting anywhere far though if you attempt anything. So I advise against trying because my dear… I will find you."

He heard her sigh, "You didn't answer the question."

He walked over to a pile of rubble and began gathering pieces of wood for a fire, his back to her, "Of course I knew what you were planning. I didn't believe you for one second. But maybe that's just what desperate souls do, convince themselves otherwise."

"Then… I personally— didn't affect you at all? I didn't actually 'Let you down'?" her tone was slightly guarded.

He froze.

"What are you asking?"

"I don't know, something that might help me sleep better at night." the sentence trailed off uncertainly.

Hook put his hand to his forehead in frustration, "My dear you have quite the ego if you think your leaving bothered me in the slightest. I wanted the compass and only the compass."

He wouldn't let her see. He wouldn't let her know how far his grasp was slipping. How little control he had when she was there.

"That… Was a lie." The shock dripped through the syllables and resonated in the break between her words.

Silence deafened the clearing. He was suddenly aware of his quickened breath and the clenched tightness of his fists. The words… came as a surprise to him as well. He had been lying?

"That little trick of yours is rather irritating, isn't it Emma?" his tone was forceful, nearly a shout in the too quiet setting.

She didn't respond. In fact he didn't hear any movement from behind him as well. Turning around and exhaling loudly, he scanned the camp, resigned in what he discovered and slowly dropping the firewood following the trail of footprints.

His jacket and the compass were gone. She was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

It felt like white hot rods of metal were lodged in her chest, shoved mercilessly against her ribcage over and over as she tore past trees. Feet pounding and crunching through the litter of leaves on the ground, Emma felt each breath shred through her body in stabbings of pain. Her hands remained bound, making her already difficult task hugely more so. Her path became zig-zagged as her vision danced in and out from the strain, already impared by the darkness and the thickness of ancient trunks. They loomed like prison guards through the blackness, becoming harder to dodge the harder she pushed.

Her breath and her footsteps were echoed behind her, her pursuer nearing with every step. She didn't dare look behind her knowing that it would stop her in her tracks. She wasn't fearful, clutching the well worn jacket closer to her chest, because she knew she had one up on him being the one with the compass. Emma only felt defiance and strangling exertion.

No. She couldn't slow down. So help her she couldn't… nothing would stop him from killing her now. And she was not too keen on dying yet.

_Fuck_. The burning in her legs and the forced staggering in her strides was a pretty good reminder that she was about done. He was gaining and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Why bolt then? Because he was lying? She cringed inwardly. Because her instinct basically turned his little lie into a confession. He didn't need, but he _wanted_ her around for whatever reason. And that was reason enough to get the hell out.

His voice sailed breathily into the air, way… way too close.

"So now you're running away from me lass?" he partly-hissed partly-shouted, his voice nastily taunting, "And here I thought we were bonding!"

Emma ran harder. She choked on her inhales, breaths turning into gasps as she felt her legs sluggishly trudge forward.

Hook's growl clawed at her past his own heavy breaths, "You're rather slow and it's dark and you might trip and hurt yourself. We really wouldn't want any harm to befall you."

The impact came from behind and pushed a scream out from within her as she hit the ground hard, a heavy body landing beside her. Emma's hands clawed outward desperately, the dirt and twigs scraping her palms and fingertips and the ropes chafing against her wrists. She kicked herself forward a few feet and attempted to stand when an iron grip snaked around her ankle and slammed her back down, her cheek meeting the floor and snagging between her teeth. A thin line of blood ran down her chin as she whipped around and stared into bright grey-blue eyes, the hand around her ankle managing to find its way to snake around her calf.

He pulled himself onto her, crushing her into his chest as she clawed at his stomach and caused him to shout. He dug his elbow into her shoulder as he tried to restrain her hands but she hit him hard across the face with the tied wrists and his grip slackened enough for her to push him off.

She bit back her own gasp, lunging forward and knocking Hook onto his back. His hand shot out, grabbing the side of her head and neck, effectively preventing her from pinning him. This time she made a second attempt to stand and continue running, throat burning from the ragged pants and her knee screaming from the first fall after Hook knocked them both to the ground.

She only managed to stumble forward five steps before she realized she'd dropped and left the jacket and the compass back with him. Emma lunged forward and snatched the soft leather up, only to find that Hook was grasping the other side, a bleeding cut jagged through his left eyebrow.

They both made a grab for the breast pocket, instead gripping one another's wrist and reaching an impasse as the struggle died down. She locked gazes with him, staring him down as she realized the amount of pain she was in, her gasping making her lightheaded. He looked no better off, his familiar cool, arrogant composure shattered into a sort of primal disarray.

"Emma. Let. Go." his tone was warning.

"Don't try to threaten me. I'm not giving this to you. I need it." she glared back hard at him.

His eyes softened and suddenly he sounded like he was pleading, "I know you do. But I need it too. Emma I've needed it for longer than you've been—"

He was cut off by a furious roar that shook the treetops and stirred the leaves at their feet. They both snapped their heads upwards and she took the opportunity to grab the jacket and take off.

But the ground shook again with the tremors of giant footsteps and she found herself sprawled on the ground again in the process of her escape. But with the jacket clutched in her hands it became nearly impossible to lift herself up with the ropes around her wrists.

That was when she suddenly felt herself swung into the air and almost immediately began protesting.

"What the HELL. Hook let me down NOW." she kicked and squirmed but that only resulted in him pressing her tighter to his chest.

"Lass be REASONABLE," she stopped struggling at the seriousness of his tone, "We're being chased by and ogre and you need to cooperate because you are going to get yourself killed."

She began wiggling again, childishly not wanting to let him have his way, "Cut me loose—let me run on my own. One, I can handle myself. Two, there is nothing wrong with me so you have no fucking reason to carry me. I'm not being the unreasonable one!"

He laughed, but the sound was strained with exertion, "And risk losing you? I'd rather not."

Another bellowing roar pierced through their argument, this time so close that she knew it was pointless for him to keep running. He seemed to think the same and quickly set her down, drawing his sword as he turned.

He looked back and with a single swipe freed her tied wrists and glared hard, "Protect the compass no matter what."

She stared up at the bone white skin of the monster, pale against the night sky and grotesque. Emma watched hook stride up to it indifferently and point his blade at its head.

"Oy. My friend! You will not be having neither myself nor my fair lady for supper tonight." and with that he lunged in for the attack.

She made to toss the jacket to her right, but his request kept her rooted to the spot, instead watching Hook circle the ogre and nimbly dodge its heavy swinging blows. The thing was massive, he didn't stand a chance. He didn't stand a chance, the thought made her sick to her stomach. She needed to help. But if she lost this compass she was never seeing Henry again.

Hook feinted to the left and threw all his weight into a blow that drew a shower of thick blood from the creature's arm but his blade became lodged in it. The next few moments she witnessed made her blood run cold and an inhuman shriek to scream through her.

The ogre grabbed Hook by the waist, lifting him high into the air as his sword fell to the ground like a thin needle, and smashed him downward, causing his body to look like a rag doll. It raised him into the air again, his right side wet with blood. Whose blood she didn't know, but it forced a word out past her lips that caused red dots to dance in her vision.

"KILLIAN."

_Fuck. It. All._

She threw the jacket down and sprinted forward, picking up his sword and coiling the muscles in her legs. With a yell she leapt into the air and stabbed the blade into the ogre's chest, letting her weight pull her downward and the sword to cut a long jagged scarlet ribbon in the white skin. Blood spurted out and splattered over her clothes as she felt the monster fall backwards and crash as it made contact with the forest floor.

Twisting the blade to make sure it was dead, Emma frantically jumped off the carcass and ran to it's now slack hand, finding Hook motionless in a deformed position. She pulled him into her arms and shook his shoulders, shuddering at the amount of blood that soaked through both their clothes.

Spitting through her teeth as she painfully threw him over her shoulder, "No. You are _going_ to be fine. I promise. Hook I am not letting you down this time."


	9. Chapter 9

Her hands shook violently as Emma threw the retrieved jacket and compass aside. Placing them gingerly on his chest, she was almost afraid to touch him in fear that she would break what was left. Her breath hitched and she shuddered visibly as she lifted the bottom edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head catching sight of the copious amount of red and cringing as she snapped her gaze away quickly. The only reassurance she had was the slight rise and fall of his chest, cruelly mocking her slow work. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, trying to force down the bile and panic that bitterly lodged itself in her throat.

By the time she returned to their camp the moon was high, bleaching the world of color. She had collapsed in a pile with him on the floor beside his bedroll, feeling unconsciousness beckon enticingly. But she'd forced herself to her knees and leaned over him, trying her best to steady herself and stabilize Hook's condition.

The blood. The blood was everywhere. Sh—shit. It was now splashed in scarlet across her hands and warm against the icy skin.

She made herself begin to rip the fabric from his shirt into shreds as she ran to the nearby stream and soaked a few pieces with the icy water, watching the grotesque redness swirl in the rushing water. Returning to him, Emma blotted with a wet rag and pressed hard on the wounds until the bleeding slowed. She began binding his torso tightly, trying her best to hold in the building nausea. There were many shallow cuts on his arm but most of the damage seemed to be around his ribcage, the skin nearly torn to shreds… muscle visible. Thankfully nothing was broken.

_Please be okay. Please be okay. I can't— I won't forgive myself if you aren't Hook. Please._

She jumped when he suddenly jerked, eyes snapping open and fists clenching hard. He began breathing fast, head whipping back and forth wildly, words slipping meaninglessly from his lips.

"You… You— cannot best me Crocodile… I— let me up!" He batted her arms away weakly, "She's going to keep me strong. She— you didn't kill her. You didn't."

His face was white and his eyes stared unseeingly up at her, the icy blue stormy and rolling in turmoil. He was delirious.

"You'll die. You will. DIE. Do you hear me?" moisture slid down his cheeks, "Milah. No. No. No no no. NO! MILAH NO."

Before she knew what she was doing, Emma's hands were on his face thumbs stroking his cheekbones tenderly. She was quietly hushing him, her whole body shaking as hot moisture stung down her face. She chanted his name over and over again, gathering him in her arms and rocking back and forth.

"Hook. Hook, It's me Emma. You're not there anymore. You're fine. We're fine. Rumplestiltskin isn't here… Please it's just me." She bit back a sob as the hysteria and exhaustion cut like knives through her chest and stomach. She hugged him tightly to her chest, trying to concentrate on the beating of both their hearts to drown out the desire to scream and just give up.

Hook went limp in her arms and eventually she found the strength to slowly set him down again, feeling as if she'd just woken up from a nightmare. His breathing was even again, his expression strangely peaceful. She couldn't stop crying and it frustrated her as she set him down gently, pushing him onto the bedroll and covering him with his jacket.

Standing up slowly, Emma walked in a trancelike state back to the post where she had been bound and pressed her back against it, sinking to the floor with the world spinning around. She was intoxicated with bone aching tiredness and was taxed emotionally to her breaking point. Her last thoughts before she passed out were with Hook and the desolate expression on his face as he called his dead lover's name.

* * *

Emma couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep as her eyes snapped open to find that the sky was still dark and the night air still hung frigidly around her. Her face felt puffy and her cheeks were still sticky with dried tears, adding to the discomfort of grogginess.

She immediately made her way over to where Hook lay, kneeling beside him and mechanically undoing the knot and unraveling his bandages. There was maroon, flaky dried patches all along his side, but luckily no fresh bleeding, as she rewrapped the wound.

When she was finished, Emma studied him. His face looked drawn and gaunt, almost haunted by whatever demons she'd glimpsed earlier. She had the urge to let her fingertips trail over the frozen furrow in his brow, keeping her eyes trained on the rhythmic rise of his chest, unable to convince herself that he wouldn't just die.

Something distant in the corner of her mind told her a few days prior that's all she wanted him to do. Drop dead.

Her mind wandered to an empty kitchen, the dull ache of high heels imprinted on her bare feet, the glow of a single candle on her face.

She whispered to no one in particular, "Once upon a time, I wished on my 28th birthday that I would finally have someone I could trust with my life."

She pushed a few stray blond strands of hair behind her ear, and stared at him. Knowing that he had risked himself… for her?

"Now I'm sort of wishing that that wish wouldn't come true." she stared hard at the wounds he'd acquired for her sake, "… Not this way."

She started when a tired voice replied, "Well love… I happen to be tougher than you think."

She turned to him immediately and found his still stormy eyes watching her intently, "You're awake?!… You didn't say anything!" She couldn't even put the proper annoyance behind the words, the relief numbing every ache in her body.

He managed a weak chuckle and a wink, "Odd I seemed to think that was my line. You were out cold the first time I came to."

She just stared at him in reply, unable to form a retort.

He sighed, "Given my present condition I'm surprised you are even here. You aren't going to attempt another grand escape? I won't even be able to chase you! It'll be a grand head start."

This time she glared, regaining some semblance of energy "Don't patronize me Killian. I can handle myself. You're— you're my prisoner now.

She almost asked it like a question, not quite delivering it with the force she'd intended. Emma then attempted her best imitation of his deadly hiss, "So I advise against trying anything because my dear… I will find you."

He didn't react the way she expected, raising an eyebrow with a slight downturn of his mouth, "Huh."

"What?" she was suddenly self-conscious.

"I believe we are on a first name basis now?"

She laughed, relaxing, "I guess we are."

He finally looked away, frown deepening, "You'll be gone when it's light then I assume."

He was disappointed? She thought her response out carefully, but couldn't arrive at any other reply.

"No." when he turned to face her with a look of surprise she smiled, "Do you want me to leave that badly?"

He returned her smile, "My dear lady I wouldn't have kept you around so long if I did."

"So what now?" she said, motioning towards his wound with a small frown.

He examined the thick rags around his torso, "In the process of our recent turn of events, we seem to have lost sight of everything we both have to do."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Yeah… well tough. Get better first."

He wiggled his eyebrows with a wide grin, "You did a good job with the makeshift bandage. Though I fear my shirt is utterly unusable now. I trust you will nurse me back to health?"

She pushed herself to her feet and started toward the stream to wet more rags, calling behind her shoulder, "Who said anything about trust?"

She shuddered from sudden realization.

_Who said anything about love?_


	10. Chapter 10

Of all the damned infuriating things. Helplessness. Helplessness taunted and irked him like no other vice in existence. This wound had him almost completely immobilized, forcing him to remain static as the morning dragged into afternoon.

What drew him to the high seas as a young boy was the constant motion. Beneath the deck he could hear the movement of waves on the boat. Above the water they sailed with the moving clouds, and sometimes he could climb to the highest point on the ship and move upward for a change of pace.

This landed helplessness left him floundering in heated aggravation, made him so obviously_weak_.

But that was hardly the worst of it… his greatest frustration was not so much his inability to move or take action, but the conflict that presented itself between himself and a certain savior of the realm.

She wasn't speaking to him. He didn't understand it. No matter how many taunts and charming masked compliments he tossed out, she only had curt replies or no words at all for him.

And it was even more tormenting was the notion that he was even upset by this at all. He was in her debt. She'd saved his life and continued, if coldly, to tend to him despite everything he had torn her from and the pains he had taken to assert his control and thwart her genuine attempts to just return home. His self-disgust and disgust at his self-disgust cycled repeatedly through his thoughts until he was lightheaded with pent up irritation.

The slant of light that tipped the last dregs of the day's warmth on his legs, tangled in her hair and turned it molten silver as she went about trying to discern how far her mother and company were from finally reaching them. She'd been at it since morning, stony faced as she glared towards the forest.

Despite his best efforts, he found himself intently studying her. His eyes fell not to the glaringly obvious physical features that had initially caught his attention. The object of interest were the lines on her forehead, the strain in her jaw, the way she held her chin slightly raised… they ghosts in her eyes. His gaze lingered on the frighteningly familiar traits that he knew were mirrored in his own face.

His life had always been the sea, the thrill of adventure, the burning in his core from the touch of women. But hardly had he acknowledged the very broken pieces, the wounds he never let close to serve as a warning. And here he was, seeing them haunt him in her form. And in that instance he firmly believed that he could inexplicably trust her, a kindred spirit, a broken soldier still forced to trudge through the muck.

He winced as he shifted, cursing colorfully and causing her to look up at him for a short second, then return to her stoic musing.

It was fleeting, but disorienting in its brief and powerful impact. Because he'd never had the urge to _fix_ someone prior to her. He'd been so bent on destruction in his profession that he'd hardly given a second glance to reconstruction. But her silence drove him to see what was a human being so desperately in need of repair that he was almost obliged to piece it back together. And maybe sweep up the mess of himself in the process.

"Emma." he ventured.

She turned around with raised eyebrows and looked at him expectantly, without a word.

"Love, would you mind changing my bandage? I fear its rather uncomfortable."

Her exhale was exasperated, stalking over and vehemently tugging the knots loose.

"Hey. Hey! Ouch Emma gently!" he smiled impishly, "Your eagerness is noted, but I am in no condition for that kind of rough handling. You'll get your chance."

Her glare was icy, "If you're that desperate for female attention you'll get you share when Mary Margarent and the others get here."

She stood to head over to the stream and wash the cloth when he called her back, "Darling do you truly think I am desperate? I guess it could be so seeing as my options have been limited, but I believe you'd stand a chance with the best of them."

"Stop." The word was harsh, angry. He was caught by surprise at the venom in the tone.

"Emma—"

"Stop!" she turned around and walked back, "Just stop okay? I've got enough on my plate to deal with and the last thing I need is a smart-ass pirate taunting me and reminding me that I've got to get this done before he can stop me."

He was taken aback, "I thought we both agreed I was in no position to stop you."

"Don't lie to me Killian." she growled, "You're not with me. You know it too. And it's confusing enough what your motives are and I don't want to even bother knowing because it will make things that much more complicated! You could still fuck up everything I've been trying to do because I have no clue what you want. You've done a fucking good job of it already."

"Emma calm down. I am not currently a proble—" was that worry he felt? For her fragility? He thought he would be sick.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT YOU ALRIGHT?" she shouted.

He stared evenly at her, shifting so he sat slightly straighter, "Killing me would be the easiest in truth. But I'd prefer to keep my life." Her anger was threatening his loss of temper as well.

"You know I'm not here to do that."

"What's been bothering you, woman? Why don't you just tell me instead of silently fuming over whatever injury I have caused you!" he shot back.

"I don't need your approval Killian! Or your forgiveness or your snide comments! You are causing way too many variables and I JUST want to go home." she strode off to the river, leaving him gritting his teeth in anger.

No he was better letting the broken pieces remain where they were. _Weak._ Killian Jones was becoming weak.

* * *

He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of panicked gasping and loud rustling. Slowly sitting up, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw Emma's curled around itself shaking violently. He opened his mouth to call her name, then bit back the sound, reminded of their argument earlier in the day. Yet he couldn't let her try and fight her demons on her own, he'd done enough of that himself.

Painfully standing, he reached into his bag and tucked two items in his hands, then slowly made his way over to her. The stabbing pain made the small distance miles long, but finally he found himself kneeling at her side with a grunt of discomfort.

She didn't even look at him, but her shaking reduced to small tremors as she sucked in breath unevenly. He stared at her for a few moments before he opened his palms and set a small candle in front of them. Striking a match and lighting the wick, the soft glow of the fire washed over their faces and created a pocket of visibility that pulsated in quiet contemplation.

The silence fell heavy on the two of them, but he nearly jumped when she broke it, her voice small.

"Nightmare."

He stared at her, feeling his eyebrows knit together, "How bad?"

She turned to him, blue eyes vacant as she bit her lip, "Henry. He… was dying in my arms. The blood was everywhere."

He nodded, "Do you know what hurt him?"

She turned away, a pained look crossing her face, "You did."

He let the silence fall again, for the first time for as long as he could recall he was at a loss for words.

But as he watched her stare into the fire he felt the last thing she needed was his defense of himself. When her needs had come into consideration, he was no longer sure. However it was best not to think about it too much.

"Quite a long time ago. When I was just a boy… and as you know I hardly remember those days— my mother used to light candles whenever i had nightmares. She would remind me that what I dreamt was over, and that when I lit the candles, they captured all the bad dreams."

His small story caused her to smile sadly and turn to him, "Did you believe that?"

"Of course not… but I wanted it to stop… Whatever was bothering you." this time he had to look away,"You should get back to sleep. I'll stay here until you manage to."

She shrugged off her jacket and folded it under her head like a pillow, the firelight playing over her cheeks, "You're just doing that because it hurts to move."

He smiled at her, "Ah I apologize it seems you have caught me."

After a slight pause her voice was curious and slightly more vibrant, "What were your nightmares about?"

He chuckled, glad that she seemed to be open to talking, "The sea."

Her laugh was bright, "What? How is that possible! You're a _pirate_."

"That's the funny thing about the way life works, lass." he winked, "You're drawn to the things you least expect."


	11. Chapter 11

Sharp, sudden pain at the back of her skull jerked Emma into alertness as she felt her head yanked backwards. Her throat was constricted with the awkwardness of the position, making breathing difficult. Attempting to wrench herself away from the claw like fingers threaded through her hair, she found her body unresponsive though there was nothing tying her down.

"Pointless attempt Emma." The voice that spoke was soft and falsely polite, "You'll find that you're a bit out of your element. In fact, I find it quite curious that you …are here at all."

Her mind raced in a thousand different directions, punctuating every other panicked thought with a curse. How could she have forgotten why they were in the clearing in the first place? Emma quickly realized her own stupidity, her stomach sinking at her own carelessness. It was hard not to feel like she'd already lost. That the compass was as good as gone. But she wasn't going to go down without a fight, magic or not. She hadn't recognized her captor's voice immediately but there was no mistaking that it was—

"Hello Cora." Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian lifting himself up weakly, "What brings you here this lovely evening? You've made quite an entrance."

Emma heard an impatient rustle of skirts as Cora shifted behind her, "Let's not play games Hook. It appears you've done your job."

She watched him smile lazily, "Come to finally claim your compass?"

How was he going to play it? They were cornered; any idiot could have seen that. Even his charisma couldn't talk them out of a fight. She tried to communicate with him silently through her stare, but he didn't look at her.

Cora ignored him, stepping around her and releasing her hair but maintaining the immobilization spell, "What's this? You brought me the Swan woman also? I'm not sure if that was necessary. In fact it is more troublesome than anything."

He laughed arrogantly, standing up smoothly without seeming to have an injury at all, "Of course it was. She is the savior of the realm. An extra little prize, free of charge."

Shock widened her eyes as Emma realized the full extent of her own stupidity. Her thoughts were suddenly livid, her outrage growing more suddenly than her panic. Killian. She walked right into it. Not only did she not struggle, but she willingly stayed and basically handed herself and the compass to the enemy. Why she didn't expect that he had been playing her.

Why didn't she _see._ He had drawn her in with his easy smiles and seemingly genuine vulnerability. He had tricked her as easily as any other woman. And she, like any other woman, fell for it.

How easy had it been for her to trust him? It was then she admitted that she had. Every excuse seemed more and more ridiculous. He was like her. He believed in her for once. He didn't underestimate her and didn't baby her. He was broken and he was human and he reminded her that she was too.

She was wrong.

She should have left. She was in way too deep. That fucking pirate.

Cora's cruel laugh made her inadvertently shudder, "She's disposable, Hook."

Emma felt her body swung into the air and she let out a shout, suddenly flung back to the floor. Pain shot up her arm as she landed on it, curling herself into a ball with a gasp.

Killian's voice was calm, "So is the compass. She comes along."

Cora's voice was mocking, "No. She's a liability. I'm surprised at you. What, did you bed her?"

Emma forced herself up and regained sight of the two of them, only a few feet apart with tensed stances.

"I've bedded many women. I fail to see the relevance." she could hear the cracks forming in his composure.

"Yet you choose her?" Cora sneered, "Your heartless reputation quite largely exceeds you."

"I did not _choose _her—"

"I am glad to hear it then."

Emma scrambled backwards on all fours as Cora strode up to her and looked at her with a smirk. The pain that followed caused her vision to flicker out, replaced with white spots as she felt herself suffocating, smothering… dying. Her eyes snapped open as she felt an iron twisting in her chest and saw Cora's arm protruding from her chest, nauseating her.

"DON'T YOU DARE." Killian's scream was close, and she saw a glint of metal swung at Cora's neck.

She fell backwards as Cora released her, gasping for breath and heart thankfully racing inside her chest. Clawing herself upright, Emma stared as Hook lunged again and again at Cora with the sword, preventing her from casting anything other than defensive spells with the constant battering,

She didn't know what to do other than watch. There was nothing she could arm herself with, touching the compass in her pocket to assure herself that she still had it. The fight in front of her lacked any finesse, just a desperate struggle to prevent any use of magic. Killian's face was set in outrage, his mouth twisted in a merciless snarl.

He didn't seem to be hindered at all by his wounded side, but she could see the staggering steps and the shaking in his arms. His movements were unusually jerky and he leaned away from his hurt side. He was suffering, but he kept at it.

She was wrong. He hadn't plotted to turn her in at all.

Emma started to rush forward when her foot kicked something with a clank. Bending down, she picked up a slim dagger and with determination ran at Cora and dived forward with the knife pointed at the woman's chest.

She only succeeded in knocking her to the ground, temporarily disoriented by the tangle of skirts and velvet. She raised the dagger again and aimed right between Cora's eyes, swinging downward with all her might.

The blade whisked through the air and stabbed into the dirt, Cora disappearing in a swirl of smoke.

She felt an urgent, iron grip around her arm, dragging her to her feet and forward at a run. They ran for the trees and dove into the thick of the surrounding forest, Killian grunting with every step.

They never let up their pace, twigs whipping her as she brushed past. His breathing was ragged beside her, pained. It had to stop, they were safe enough. Emma halted suddenly, jerking him backwards into her. They stood in the dark between the trees, trying to catch their breath.

His tone was annoyed once he managed to choke out words, "Why did we stop!? You may have forgotten but Cora happens to want both of our lives?!"

He swayed dangerously and gripped her forearm for support and she raised her eyebrow, "You're an idiot. You can barely stand."

"I won't be able to stand at all if I'm dead." He glared at her.

"Good thing you aren't then." she smiled slightly.

Emma helped him over to a tree trunk and watched him sink to the ground with his back pressed against the rough bark. She sat beside him and listened to his evening breath, the sounds of the forest welcome in the calm.

She sighed, "Let me take a look."

"I'm fine Emma. It can wait until morning." He snapped.

"Don't be a child Killian. You've already impressed, practically killing yourself fighting her. You don't need to prove anything else." She frowned as she undid the bandages and revealed freshly reopened cuts that had made progress in healing.

"You're a mess." She said, blotting away trails of blood, "Thank you."

"For being a mess? You are quite welcome." his irritation seemed to fade.

"You know what I mean."

"Well as impressive as I was, it was surprising to see you flank her as you did. The feral stabbing with the dagger was a nice touch." He winced as she began rebinding his side.

She rolled her eyes, "Well for a second there I thought… doesn't matter. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"That was the smart thing to do." he smiled, "However, I feel obligated to ask. You did?"

She studied him noting the genuine seriousness behind his playful teasing. Because he did challenge her, and he did make the path forward anything but easy. He made it so she had to work to keep up with him. And he trusted that she would.

She closed her eyes, "Doesn't matter. I won't doubt you again."


	12. Chapter 12

The thin strip of metal on his lap reflected his conflicted stare and returned it in equal indecision. His situation was unfamiliar, perhaps echoing something so long ingrained in his memory that it was more potent when reinvigorated as the woman leaning against a tree before him.

Being… agreed with and heard was something so strange he wasn't quite sure if he liked it. They had been plagued with indecision as to what their next course of action was, seeing as Killian had no intention of returning to Snow White and company and Emma had no intention of pursuing Cora. So he had suggested trying to find some place where they would be moderately safe, perhaps a village, and could make more concrete decisions at that point. And she had nodded and set off without any questions.

_That_ was what irked him. It was too simple… too _easy_. And nothing ever came easy to him. He hadn't even saved her, hadn't attempted any sort of knight-in-shining-armor act. That was the issue. He was no knight, and he was not her savior. He forced himself to remember he was not her anything anymore, "enemy" was hardly the title he'd use and "friend" disgusted him.

He stood suddenly, sword in hand as he approached her, "Oy! Emma!"

She gave him a startled look and glared, "What? Put the thing down Killian you look like you're about to attack."

He kept his blade raised and smirked, "How about you and I have a go?"

"Fight you? Are you crazy?" she tipped her head sideways slightly and kept her gaze trained on the blade.

"Not fight Emma, _Spar_." he inched forward and she pushed the nearing point aside with a swipe, "I think it's high time I teach you to properly defend yourself. Rather than swing around blindly and hope for the best."

Her mouth dropped slightly in offense, "I do not do that!"

His smirk widened and lips parted in a taunt, "You mean stumble around like an ogre?"

Her brows knit together and her glare turned venomous as she took the bait, "Give me the sword, Hook. Now."

She lunged at him, and he held the sword back with a laugh, "So suddenly enthusiastic lass!"

Emma stalked up to him and snatched the sword from his grip, giving him a cocky look. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped at her show of temper.

"That's my girl."

He watched her attempt to position herself in a ready stance and shook his head with a smile at the awkwardness with which she held herself. He strode over, feeling her eyes on him as he crossed behind her and examined her position from behind. He wouldn't admit how he enjoyed what he observed.

"I'm not sure what you think you're doing, but you are most definitely not fight ready." he chuckled at her intense glare, "It's a dance Emma."

She snapped back annoyed, "I can't dance."

He sighed and closed the distance between them, pressing himself against her back and wrapping his arms around her. She tensed, clenching the pommel of his sword more tightly as he placed his hands lightly over hers. He felt her lean away from him but he gave her nowhere to go, slowly guiding her arms to a more natural position. He couldn't explain the sudden lightness of breath, the way she shook slightly against his chest. She smelled like vanilla and spice, her hair soft against his lips.

His voice was breathy when he spoke, "Then you'll die."

He stepped back and saw her stiff, staring at the ground. Walking back around to face her, he removed his dagger and pointed it at her and wiggled his eyebrows. He quickly shuffled in, the sound of metal glancing off itself as he swiped aside her sword and made three quick taps on her shoulder, stomach then resting the point lightly on her chest at her heart.

"Dead." he offered her a winning smile,"You've got to feel the sword like an extension of your arm."

She swung at his right and he leaped to the side, laughing as he whipped around and touched the dagger tip to the small of her back.

"Try not to come running at me and making your next move obvious," he demonstrated a feigned left swipe then whirled and aimed at her head in a split change, "Always try to stay light on your feet. Head up. Look at my eyes. They will tell you everything I plan to do."

His gaze locked onto her blue ones which flashed with something he didn't recognize. She smiled suddenly, "So you mean like this?"

Suddenly she swept in, aiming for his leg then cutting short and swinging towards his neck. Killian was forced to step back and parry jerkily and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes my dear." his surprise dissolved into a challenging grin, "Exactly like that."

With that Killian lunged in with more ferocity, metal meeting again and again in clanging that ran cacophonously through the forest. He aimed for her head and met only her blade as he stabbed at her stomach and found himself swinging at the air and the bite of metal in the back of his neck.

"Dead," he could hear the smile in her voice.

He growled and disengaged, this time stabbing three times forward and avoiding her blade, then slashing downward in a diagonal swipe at her torso. He felt the sound cut short when she dropped her own sword and grabbed his wrist, twisting the dagger out of his hand and pressing it to his throat.

"Dead." he felt his mouth twist into a snarl at the triumphant victory on her face.

Emma dropped the dagger and laughed as she turned and began walking away when Killian reached out suddenly and caught her wrist with his hook and spun her to face him.

"Is someone a sore loser?" she teased trying to tug herself away.

He yanked her forward and pulled her close, "Hardly. But I may need a little comforting for such a unexpected defeat."

She turned away, "I don't—"

Still hooked around her wrist, he cupped the side of her face softly. He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, slowly turning her back to him. Her eyes were wide, expression slightly fearful as he took his time. Killian leaned in just enough so that he could graze her nose with his, their breaths mingling. Sliding the tip of his nose up to her bridge, he could feel her eyelashes on his lips, the slight quiver of her mouth at his chin over his stubble. Slowly… slowly he leaned so his mouth was just millimeters from hers, feeling her arch up slightly to meet him halfway.

When suddenly he tapped the point of a small pocket knife to the back of her neck, feeling her coil and wrench herself backwards.

He laughed wickedly, "Dead."

Emma looked affronted, gracing him with a venomous look.

"You fell for it love. I couldn't resist the opportunity." he attempted his best look of innocence.

He noticed that her eyes were cast downward slightly and he followed his gaze to where she focused. He realized his hook was still around her wrist, the hard metal causing the skin to redden slightly. He quickly freed her, feeling his smile falter.

"I apologize. I hadn't realized I still—" he met her gaze and saw curiosity in her sky eyes, "Are you afraid? Or appalled?"

She bunched her eyebrows together in confusion, smirk widening as she grabbed his hook and let it hang between her fingers between them, "By what? This?"

He watched her study the strange scene before them. Killian stared as well, stricken by the ease with which she treated his… deformity. The twisted metal rested lightly between the lithe softness of human skin, seeming glaringly out of place. If anything reminded him that he was a monster, it was his hook. It became his namesake. It became him.

But there she stood with a lazy, smug expression as she held it without the slightest show of discomfort. She treated it as if it was natural, nothing odd about his substitute appendage. He felt oddly whole and altogether human.

A monster that felt human. He had to give it to her, she was special.

"No." she exhaled amused, "No I'm not afraid or appalled by you. As much as you hate yourself… Well I guess I'm here to balance that out."

He didn't hesitate in his response, "I'm glad that you're here Emma."

Her gaze averted quickly and returned to where she still held onto his hook and let go, "I bet it could make a nasty uppercut."

He chuckled, "That it could."

She walked over to where his sword lay on the ground and lifted it back into a ready stance, "Let's go again. I won't fall for it this time."

The challenge in her eyes was all too enticing.

"You wish to lose again?" he winked at her and held his dagger up with a beckoning gesture.

"You're all talk, Killian." she hissed threateningly and lunged in for a whirl of clashing metal.

He thought on that conclusion. No he wasn't always all talk.

He'd truly meant that he was glad she was there.


	13. Chapter 13

The trees began to thin as Emma pushed ahead pausing when she saw a small house with a vegetable garden and a quaint stone fence. It was sort of strange to see anything other than thick forest, and so it was almost welcoming to her. She felt a slight touch on her shoulders and watched Killian brush past her, his attention also on their discovery.

The windows were dark, and she wondered if anyone was in. It definitely wasn't abandoned, the garden too well kept. She stepped up to join him and studied him, waiting for some kind of verdict on wether or not this was where they stopped running and decided on a plan forward. It meant an end to the forgetful travel that she hadn't realized she'd been desperately holding on to, and Emma wasn't so sure she wanted that.

He turned to her with a smile, "Spectacular find, love! I've been tired of living such the way that we have. Though I am a pirate I do have a soft spot for an actual meal."

He began to walk forward when she grabbed his arm quickly, "What you're just going to go in there!?"

Giving her a sideways glance he pulled his arm away, tone haughty, "Of course! There must be at least a cellar with something stored. If we're lucky there's alcohol too. God knows I need a strong drink."

She followed after him as he strode confidently up to the door, hesitating slightly when she spoke, "I don't know if you know this? But breaking and entering isn't exactly polite Killian."

He turned around and rolled his eyes, smirk puckering in a you're-being-ridiculous-Emma expression, "My dear, I would be a piss poor pirate if I didn't plunder and steal. Aren't you also tired of hunting for your supper?"

She sighed and relented, watching him break the latch through the door easily with his hook and kick the door in, finding herself faced with a small, singular room. Taking in the scene, she realized Killian was already halfway down the ladder to the cellar, a fresh black shirt on with the buttons open to about halfway down his chest. She sighed. He worked fast and they would be out more quickly, she would give him that.

She surveyed the room for anything that caught her eye, shuddering at how much doing this reminded her of things she tended to shut out of her thoughts. She didn't take anything, instead just stood there waiting for him to resurface.

Suddenly she heard whistling coming from the front of the house. Running to the window, Emma saw the silhouette of a man strolling towards the house.

She panicked, realizing the only exit happened to be the front door.

"Killian! We have a problem!"

There was a banging and a rustling when his head poked up from the top of the latter, "What is it Emma! It's ridiculous, there isn't a spot of hard liquor anywhere down there."

She exhaled, frustrated, and hoisted him back up into the room. His arms were brimming with a multitude of food and she glared, "Well, for starters whoever lives here is coming back right now."

He froze then said slowly, "And the only way out is the front door?"

She turned and noted a back window and he followed her gaze, "Well there's—"

By the time she'd managed to get out two words, Killian was already out the window and running up the hill.

She cussed audibly and made a break for the opening as she heard a gasp and a jiggling at the door. Her eyes glanced over a dusty bottle on the shelf to her right, and realizing what it was, her hand shot out and she grabbed the neck, practically leaping out the window and landing on all fours. She heard the angry shout of the house owner, and quickly scrambled up, chasing after Killian.

Emma found him waiting a ways out, smiling when he caught sight of her.

"My what an adventure, yes?" he gave her a mock pout, "Why aren't you helping with carrying anything?"

She snorted and gave him an annoyed look, "Because you ditched me back there and left me to die?"

She pulled out the bottle she'd taken at the last minute and handed it to him, feeling her own lips tug upwards at the child-like brightening of his expression.

"Emma you are just brilliant. Rum for a deprived captain?" he turned his gaze to her, grey, blue eyes cloudless.

"I knew you'd be happy about it." she said looking through his spoils.

He set his things on the ground, leaning up against the tree and folding his arms, "Impressive my dear. You have done this before, have you not?"

She stared down at her hands and wrung them, saying with false confidence, "Maybe once or twice."

He shook his head with a smirk, and she was glad that he hadn't detected the strange note in her tone, "And here you were protesting so!"

Using his hook to unstopper the rum, he handed her the bottle with an impish grin, "I see no reason to wait. Ladies first."

She stared him down and calmly accepted the bottle, placing it to her lips and feeling the burn of alcohol bloom in her chest.

* * *

The stars laid themselves brilliantly across the sky, filtering patches of light through the thicket of trees. The stillness of dark was cut off by the two of them, sitting side by side against a thick evergreen, a fire blazing pleasantly off their faces.

"Sing Killian!" she laughed, "Please. Don't make me beg you."

He tipped her chin up so she looked at him, "How badly do you want it?"

"Only enough so that you will."

He sighed and rubbed his thumb against the convex curve of his hook, "You'll make me miss the sea more than I already do, love."

He handed her the bottle and she took another swig, "Tell me about it then instead."

She watched him think, the bridge of his nose crinkling slightly, "I.. daresay I feel like I can't remember all of it suddenly. Being away too long will do that to you. The most intense memories are of the smell of salt, and the movement."

"Well someone is a romantic underneath it all." she playfully smirked. He nudged her with a self-conscious laugh.

He looked at her as if he was looking for prompting and she nodded, "It was always moving lass, openness as far as you could see. In the early morning the water was light green, midday a royal blue, nighttime black like warm blood. And being at the helm with the sails above you like wings. Lass, you can't even try to replicate the feeling."

Killian chuckled, eyes glazed over, "Shmee— my first mate. He fell overboard once and I didn't even note it. It wasn't until I saw him trying to swim alongside after a few that I managed to have my crew hoist him in. The plundering! The adventure!"

Suddenly his tone quieted, "It was lonely."

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly, "Let's not think about it. Here's a toast to the last night of running away before we turn around and get that dust to get home."

She felt his arm snake protectively around her waist, "I'll drink to that."

He grabbed the neck of the bottle and took a long drink, lowering it and staring intensely at her, as if deciding something. Then slowly she heard a velvet melody, dark but powerful and intoxicating.

_Yeah Brandy used to watch his eyes when he told his sailor's story_

_She could feel the ocean fall and rise, she saw it's raging glory_

_But he had always told the truth, Lord he was an honest man_

_And Brandy does her best to understand_

_At night, when the bars close down_

_Brandy walks through a silent town_

_And loves a man, who's not around_

_She still can hear him say, she hears him say_

_"__Brandy, you're a fine girl_

_What a good wife you would be_

_But my life, my lover, my lady_

_Is the sea"_

When he let the last few notes dissolved into the crackling of the fire, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. His face was blank, seemingly lost with the song. It had a deeper meaning she was sure. But through her rum-clouded consciousness she decided she didn't care to know.

She did know that it was something so raw, she knew she wasn't supposed to hear any of it. But if liquor was what it took for him to drop the act, she was willing to see. She wanted to see. What made him tick. What made him sing.

"Well O captain my captain, who's side are you really on?" she pushed her face against his shoulder, inhaling the smell of sea.

"The rum is really getting to your head, isn't it love?" he took the bottle from her and set it to his side.

"Maybe a little," she smiled, "But you just sang for me, so I'd say we're pretty even. Now stop dodging the question."

"I am on no one's side. Actually, correction, I am on my own."

She looked up at his smug smile, "Why did you save me then?"

His reply was ready, teasing as he looked away, "Perhaps I wanted to follow around a young, beautiful savior of the realm rather than some old bat who rips hearts out. This is a much more aesthetically pleasing situation in my opinion."

She frowned, "Working for the misfit savior and three princesses? You've really lowered your standards Killian."

He turned back and she found him incredibly close, just inches away his breath playing over her cheeks softly, "I find this is a step up from where I was before."

Why she did what she did never crossed her mind as Emma grabbed the front of his shirt and closed the small space between them. The contact was surprised at first, exploratory as she tasted the rum on his mouth and felt his stubble graze her chin. It wasn't an explosion of passion, just tenderness, slow and lazy as he tested the waters. Her hands found their way up to the sides of his face, and he tentatively pulled back and kissed the corners of her mouth, then parted her lips slowly.

It was tender, soft, and slow. And Emma couldn't remember the last time she was treated with such gentleness. From a pirate of all people.

Suddenly she pulled back, feeling inner restraint drag her away. He stared at her with burning eyes, an odd expression on his face.

"Maybe I am drunk." she laughed nervously.

He offered a half smile, the gesture a little sad, "I could have told you that before."

She paused for a bit, then returned her head to his shoulder and felt him pull her close.

A few moments later she heard him speak, "Who's side am I on Emma? Not Snow White, Mulan and Aurora's. Not Cora's. I am on my side, and I am on yours."

She turned to catch his eyes, but he refused to look at her.

"And yours alone."


	14. Chapter 14

He gradually felt himself drift into consciousness through the thickness of sleep, suddenly aware of the sharp pain in his head. Something solid was pressed uncomfortably into the small of his back, and his arm was trapped beneath the rise and fall of a soft side.

Attempting to open his eyes, he gritted his teeth at the harshness of mid-morning light, grumbling slightly as he realized he couldn't shift out of the awkward position and away from the painful lump on the tree trunk. He glanced toward the numbing pressure on his left side and found Emma curled up against him, her head nestled against his chest.

Killian's first instinct was to wake her. He reached his hand over to tap her on the shoulder, but hesitated, pulling back slightly. She was… soft in his arms, paradoxically complementing her unbent will. It had been too long since he just… held a woman. The position he was in almost felt strange and unfamiliar.

But he was drawn in to her, nuzzling her hair and catching that faint trace of vanilla that eased the pounding in his head. He was tempted to trace his fingertips down the soft curve of her neck, press her closer and let her sleep undisturbed. It struck him as odd how simply content he was sitting there with her in his arms.

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing her name against the puckered skin.

She shifted slightly and and sighed, her lips turning downwards slightly.

"Neal."

He tensed and grit his teeth. What in fucking hell was a "Neal". The answer already burned inside. Not what. _Who_.

A flash of anger caused him to shake her off and stand. Jerking her awake in the process, Emma groggily put a hand to her head and squinted up at him with confusion.

"Agh, easy Killian. Hangover." she leaned her head back against the tree, eyes still on him.

He couldn't trace the origin of his harsh indignation but he was furious, silently staring at the ashes of the fire.

"Killian?" he heard her walk over and soon felt her hand on his shoulder, "Hey what's going on with you?"

He turned and attempted a level tone, "Who's Neal?"

Her eyes snapped open, her expression suddenly defensive, "What?"

"I asked you a question Swan." he couldn't hold back the heated accusation behind the words.

"Why the hell are you pissed?" her voice held building ill temper as well, "How does this concern you at all?"

He searched himself for an suitable answer, irately snapping back when he found none, "Why shouldn't it?!"

She exhaled sharply, "Because it doesn't? Because that's my business and you are mad for no damn reason?"

He growled a response, "In another man's arms? That's bloody rich Emma."

"Like it even matters to you!" her voice bordered on a shout, "Another man's? What— are you suddenly saying you have some kind of claim over me?!"

His hands balled to fists at his side, "I don't appreciate the notion that I must share what's mine!"

She betrayed no surprise at the remark, entirely livid, unlike his sudden shock at his own statement, "SO SUDDENLY IM YOURS?"

He pushed his face into his hands, "DAMNIT WOMAN NO."

Folding her arms, she raised an eyebrow, "Then what the fuck are you pissed about Killian?"

Did he even know? He stalked right up to her, "That's not the issue. Who is Neal."

Her lips set together in a stubborn line, causing his gaze to focus on them briefly, "Does this have something to do with last night?"

"No." he shot back, "Last night did not mean a thing!"

Her eyes danced with skepticism, "Oh really! You're making it seem like an awfully huge thing!"

"I was drunk!"

"Well _so_ was I!"

He grabbed her shoulder as she tried to walk away from him, "Then we sodding agree for once?!"

Her eyes narrowed, "You're a fucking asshole, Killian."

He felt his lips drag down in a snarl, wanting with every physical aspect of himself to show her just how ridiculous she was being. He was sick of her running away, both literally and not.

Suddenly he was aware of their proximity, freezing when he saw the burn in her eyes take a fierce new light.

His lips crushed to hers hard, a spark to gasoline fueling what had been absent in their contact the previous night. He could taste fire on her mouth and blood when she bit hard on his lower lip and tugged at it persistently. Her hands fisted in his hair as he pushed himself against her, feeling her tongue tease the inside of his cheek.

He wrenched himself back and stared hard into her sky blue eyes, forcing her to stare back at him as he saw the slow burn of the kiss kindle in her irises.

"Does this not mean anything to you Emma?!"

He hooked his hook through a thin fabric belt loop in the back of her jeans and walked her up against a tree trunk. His lips found the soft skin where her jaw met her neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive spot and successfully drawing a gasp from her. His fingers were threaded into her hair, and he found her lips again without difficulty, feeling their teeth click with every movement.

Her hips rolled against him and he grunted in surprise, yanking off her jacket and tugging the collar of her shirt down slightly, trailing his mouth up her collarbone.

"Tell me!" he said in a low rasp, "Fucking tell me Swan. Tell me you aren't mine."

"You FIRST." she raised a hand to his chest and pushed him off and onto the ground, straddling him and pinning his wrists. She brought her lips to his jawline, nipping and biting along it.

He sat up, her legs still hooked around his hips as his fingers dug into her back and his hook locked around both her wrists, pulling her hands into his stomach. Their eye contact was potent and exclusive, blue crashing with blue on the shore.

"What can I tell you that you don't already know, love?"

She gasped as he bucked, fingers clawing against his torso.

She looked at him like he was the only person she had ever seen, icy fire. She tasted like smoke and **_Gods _**that hint of vanilla.

It wasn't long before their mouths were locked again, feeling her snarl his name against his mouth, feeling her tug at his pants.

A sudden shriek, not either of theirs, tore through the air, "EMMA."

Both their heads snapping around, they saw Snow White standing there with a furious expression. Lovely, the princesses had caught up.

Emma quickly climbed off of him and scrambled into a standing position, face flushed as he watched her attempt to regain herself.

"What. Are. You. Doing." she spat through her teeth, drawing her bow and pointing it at him.

Killian stood slowly, never taking his eyes off of the arrow tip, "Put that thing down before you kill someone Milady."

Her retort was red, "Not a chance. What the hell is going on here, Emma?!"

He turned his gaze to her, apprehensive for her response.

"I… Don't know." she turned her gaze away.

He felt his own temper flare, "Don't know?!"

Her head snapped up and she flashed him a stoic expression. He couldn't push down the sudden bitterness of betrayal in his stomach. Again.

"After all that you don't know." his voice dropped to a low threatening tone.

She didn't respond, only staring at him apologetically as Snow slowly lowered her weapon with a look of confusion.

"Alright lass." he walked over to the fire pit and shrugged his jacket back on and patting his breast pocket where the compass was for emphasis of possession, "Have it your way. I'm done with this game. You can run away from your problems on your own."

He grabbed his sword off the ground and began walking, then stopped and turned.

"And here I thought I was falling in love with you Emma Swan."

He only caught a glimpse of Snow's dumbfounded expression and the shattered look on Emma's face before stalking off into the trees.


	15. Chapter 15

He couldn't understand what plagued him with torment, what forced him forward aimlessly until he didn't even know what direction he was walking save that the compass in his hand pointed him the opposite way.

Get out of his head. He needed to clear his head, erase every touch and every nip that pulled his thoughts in a hundred scattered directions.

How could he have even thought to have said— what kind of thing could have clouded his judgement and removed any sort of filter— Love?

He only had it for Milah. Milah was his— his everything, his sole reason for living. She gave him drive and purpose. He felt a pang in his chest when he realized he almost had to remind himself of that. But it wasn't her name that forced him to keep moving. It wasn't her name he thought of when he gripped a passing tree branch hard and suddenly felt land sick.

What… what did he even mean by it. Was it some last ditch attempt to secure her trust? Baiting her, he was baiting her. It sounded fucking better than whatever he was running from.

Running from? She was doing the running. She wouldn't trust him, no matter what he did to try and remind her that for whatever reason he made it his priority to get her home, almost as prominent as his own need to cross between the worlds and make it to Storybrooke.

He balled his hand up into a fist around the compass and stared at the puckered whiteness of skin, trying to even his breaths and expel the disappointment that dragged his limbs down like lead.

What had been his favorite thing about Milah? He forced the endearing image of Emma's adorable angry glares and the perpetual spark in her ice-fire eyes.

He felt himself shaking with restraint, breathing ragged as he realized he couldn't even clearly picture Milah's face anymore. He couldn't remember where she liked to be kissed. He knocked his forehead against his palm, as if trying to rattle the memories back into clarity. What… what was the sound of her voice like?

In a split second everything seemed to crash down around him, he choked on his breath as coiled his arm back and punched the tree, reactionless when pain shot up his arm and warm blood stained his knuckles.

He lo—love… He _loved_ her. And the feeling he had now was all too familiar. And all to ambiguous.

He slowly opened his fingers and stared at the compass, still pointing the opposite direction of his escape path. Pointing in the direction of specificity, where he could pinpoint his path ahead, where he could identify himself and not hate what he saw.

He took a step in the direction the needle pointed, second guessing himself for a minute and beginning to turn away.

But they both couldn't run for one another. He wanted to keep her. He began walking quickly, following the point of the compass.

He _would_ keep her.

Not even she herself could run. Because he made a promise to find her if she tried to escape. And he intended to follow through.

No one could take what he loved from him any more.

* * *

"Get out of the WAY!"

Emma made to push past Mary Margaret again, finding herself barred by her mother's arm which shot out in warning.

"Emma. Stop. We need to talk this out." the tone was firm but gentle, making her pause her belligerent push forward. Damn her.

"What is there to even talk about!" she threw her arms up and buried her face in her hands, "That compass is as good as gone if we don't go after him. Home. You know, what the whole point of going up that beanstalk in that first place was?"

She felt small, kind hands on her wrists that tugged her hands back down, "Emma, do you really think you're going to be getting the compass back if you go after him?"

The glare she attempted failed miserably, biting her lip against the sudden urge to sit down and just yell until her throat gave out, "This isn't about him. I know you're trying to make this about him."

"I said nothing about this being about him," Mary Margaret folded her arms, "But if there is something I want to know. Not because you have to tell me, but because you suddenly disappeared on me and left me with a pool of blood and the thought that I had lost my daughter."

Emma sighed, "He's going to be really hard to find if he get's any more of a head start."

Her mother raised her eyebrows, "Somehow I think you'll find him eventually."

She dropped crosslegged on the ground, watching Mary Margaret join her, "Where are Mulan and Aurora?"

"Catching up. I wanted to get to you as soon as I could." she smiled, "You and Hook didn't even bother concealing your trail."

"That was the last thing on our minds." her voice dropped slightly.

"I could tell."

Emma backpedaled and felt heat over her neck and ears, "I meant we got attacked by an ogre and Cora and were sort of at each other's throats for the compass."

"WHAT?!" Mary Margaret's hand was on her arm, gripping a little tightly for comfort.

"Ow, yeah." she shifted and loosened her hold, "He sort of took me to meet up with her… then I don't really know what happened."

Silence fell between them as she waited for a reply, turning to see Mary Margaret staring at her intently, a small smile on her face.

"How long do you think it's been?"

"What?"

Her laugh was light and bell like, "I'm sorry you just seemed so unused to it."

She gave her mother a sideways look, "Well thank you for clarifying."

"Being in love, Emma."

She lost track of her last sentence, immediately jumping to retorts and denials, but the absence of the darkly comforting presence of a certain someone caused a hard lump to form in her throat.

The distance felt alien, as if she hadn't remembered how being without him felt. He had been so involved and entwined in her story as of late that she had become used to it. She had almost become dependent on it.

She loved him.

All the broken pieces.

She loved him more than she thought she was capable of anymore.

And it hurt. His absence and his presence and his morally grey motivations.

She opened her mouth to respond but couldn't find anything to say.

"I'm not in love." she looked away, her tone hardly convincing.

"I know it when I see it Emma." Mary Margaret hugged her arm and placed her head on her shoulder, "And I think you shouldn't hide from it. Even if I don't understand your choice, and I don't know what he wants."

Staring off in the direction he'd left, her lips pulled up, surrendering a half smile.

What she said wasn't quite_ I love you_…

"I trust him." and that was more than enough for now.


	16. Chapter 16

Securing the straps on Mulan's bag for the third time, Emma meticulously scanned her surroundings again to check for any left over supplies that could be of use. Her eyes ran over the still overturned patches of dirt where his body had pressed against the ground, feeling something ignite in the pit of her stomach when she remembered how warm he had been.

She felt the satchel slowly tugged out of her hands and her attention refocused, greeted by her mother's grim expression.

"You can't expect him to show up, you know?" she outstretched her hand and Emma took it, allowing herself to be pulled up halfheartedly.

"Who said I was waiting for him to show up?" she dusted herself off and shrugged on her jacket, catching a slight whiff of oceanwater.

Mary Margaret sighed and handed the bag back to their stoic companion, slinging her bow over her arm, "We're going to get moving. I think we've delayed going after Cora long enough."

Emma nodded, wanting suddenly to desperately leave the place. Everything here, the smells the sounds, the way the sky had tipped when he branded his palms against her shoulders as he pressed her into the dirt. It confused her, it was completely unwanted, and she couldn't help but think she was going a little bit crazy.

Nothing was going to change him. And somehow he had drawn her in and disillusioned her. But she was smarter than than that.

Hell she hoped she was smarter than that.

"I'm right behind you." she paused to glance again over her shoulder with a frown and began to walk forward, "We need to get the hell home, this has gone on way too long."

She brought up the back end of the little group, waiting to climb over a mossy fallen tree when she heard her name. Low, Sultry, dangerous.

His.

Mary Margaret whipped around first, lips rounded in a perfect pink circle, "Oh.. no."

She refused to turn around. If he was so bent on her running away then Emma saw no reason not to turn around. But Mary Margaret was walking forward with Aurora following closely behind, forcing her to look the direction of the call.

He was standing with his arms folded, seeming nonchalant about his sudden reappearance and his eyes were trained on her. She flicked her gaze away, as if she was burned, unwilling to see the same muted relief at his presence mirrored back at her.

Mary Margaret's voice was sharp, "So you've come back, Hook."

She glanced up again, finding his gaze still trained on her, "I'm here to speak to Emma."

Her mother glared, green eyes sparking with annoyance, "You think I'm going to believe that's all you want?"

He finally broke his persistent stare at Emma, turning to return the threatening glare that Mary Margaret gave him. She was thankful that her mother was standing up for both of them. She certainly couldn't trust herself to speak. She would either shout at him and lunge for his throat, or she would welcome him as a reprieve from the inner turmoil. Either way what she would say would not be what she wanted to.

"My bet is that you will Milady." she felt her eyes widen along with Mary Margaret's as he pulled the compass out of his breast pocket and tossed it to her mother.

She fumbled as she caught it and stared with disbelief at Emma, "I— ah I think he wants to talk to you Emma." She made a small prompting motion with her head and began walking quickly with Aurora to join Mulan up ahead.

Great.

She stood her ground, unwilling to be the first to speak. His expression was unreadable as he stood there, confident smirk fading.

"Have I greatly offended you, love?" he ventured cooly.

"Offended me?" she walked forward as he did and met him halfway, "Does that suddenly matter?"

He frowned, and she found it strange to see him so serious, "Does that surprise you?"

She sighed, "This is ridiculous."

His lips twitched upwards for a second, "I quite agree. Remaining angry at you seems to be quite the challenge."

She rolled her eyes, "You know you aren't going to be able to charm your way out of this one. Why did you come back."

It was his turn to sigh and retreat, "Can we just put this past us and move on?"

She stared at him, "What are you scared of, Killian?"

His eyes widened and for the first time she saw defeat set hard in his features.

"You."

She moved on instinct, stepping up so that the tips of their shoes were touching. She wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him close and pressing the side of her face to his chest. He coiled, as if about to attack, then she felt him tentatively return the gesture, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, holding her desperately as if she was going to turn to dust in his arms. The smell of the sea was clearer, his steady breathing like the crash of waves.

She stood there with him, just standing with the comfort of his presence against her. Comfort? She didn't know what to think. She didn't want to think her way out of this one.

Her voice was muffled by the soft leather of his vest, "Do I want to know what that means?"

His hold tightened protectively, "No. I don't think either of us do."

There was a shout from ahead which Emma recognized as Aurora's and she pulled away quickly, nodding at him as they both ran towards the sound. She could feel Killian's hand hovering near her waist as they ran, trying to ignore the feeling of wanting to lean into it.

Her mother ran forward as soon as she caught sight of them, frenzied when she spoke, "Emma. We have to get moving. Now."

"Wh—Wha" she was cut off as she followed Mary Margaret's pointer finger to the swirl of purple that seemed to create a translucent vortex funneling up to the sky.

"Cora's opened a portal with the dust there?!" her head snapped to Hook watching him appraise the situation with understated concern.

She gestured with her hand for him to continue, but it was Mulan who answered her, "That means you've got our way out. But we have to go now. Or else it's over."

She felt her self lurched forward as Mary Margaret grabbed her arm and began running the direction of the portal. Killian was right ahead of them as they sprinted, matching Mulan's pace.

Emma finally caught her balance and shouted as the wind whipped past her ears, "Can SOMEONE tell me where the hell 'there' is?!"

"Lake Nostos." Aurora called behind her, "They say the water has regenerative properties. For instance, the magic in that wardrobe dust."

It still didn't make sense to her, "Then Why would Cora do that if she doesn't have everything she needs?!"

Killian barked a laugh, "Come now lass, you can't be that dull. We have to go to her now. It's our only way out. And we have to have…"

"The compass." She breathed.

"Let's hope we win." Mary Margaret shot.

* * *

They broke through the border of trees and saw Cora's lone figure, standing at the mouth of a gaping hole of swirling water. Emma began to charge forward but she felt Mulan's restraining arm barring her way.

"You forget this is a battle with magic." the tone was stern, "You don't stand a chance against her. For this to work we need a plan."

"I have a good one," she unsheathed Mulan's sword quickly before the warrior could react and ran forward, "We kill her. And I get back to my son."

"EMMA!" she heard Mary Margaret shriek as she swung the sword at Cora's left shoulder.

She saw Cora's hand snap out and she made to redirect her attack in a trick swing as she had been taught, but she felt her arm contort at a painful angle and the pommel fall from her hand.

Cora wore a wide smile, magic causing tendrils of black to snake around her arm, "Hello Miss Swan. How pleasant to be in your company again."

An arrow whizzed past Cora's ear, stirring her hair, "DONT TOUCH HER."

The restraining invisible force abated suddenly and Cora dissolved before her. Emma whipped around to see her re materialize before her mother levitating her up in the air as she clutched at her throat. Mulan and Aurora were thrown against a tree trunk, crumpling in a small pile at its base. She couldn't find Killian.

"How lovely, a mother's protective instinct is truly powerful. And you have what I want don't you, Snow white? Give me the compass."

Mary Margaret shook her head, gurgling as she was choked.

"Pity." Cora moved her hand ever so slightly as if she was going to end it.

Emma yelled a wordless shout and snatched up the sword and staggering forward, but before she could take more than three steps, she saw Killian suddenly step out from behind and stab at Cora's side with his sword.

He aimed a slash at her neck when she forced him to deflect a ball of fire, meeting invisible resistance about a foot above her upturned palm. Her face was pulled up in a snarl as Mary Margaret scrambled to Emma's side at the edge of the portal.

"KILLAIN." Emma screamed, as he stabbed at Cora's chest only to be forced back several steps as she swept her arm out in a horizontal arc. He managed to flick the tip of his blade across her cheek and she dissolved in a puff of smoke, nowhere to be seen.

"EMMA GO." He stalked up a few feet from her with a desperate expression.

"WHAT? YOU'RE COMING TOO."

He shook his head, eyes darting around him on alert for Cora's reappearence, "Emma listen to me she's going to try to stop you if I don't stay here. She'll find a way out. She'll kill you, everyone you love, your SON."

Hot tears stung down her cheeks suddenly, "Don't you dare tell me you're going to try and argue with me."

He made a lighthearted shooing motion, completely wrong for the weight of the situation, "I'll see you on the other side, love."

She attempted to move towards him again but his angry glare stopped her, "You're a god damn liar, Killian."

He held out his hand, just like he had when she'd left him on the beanstalk. She hated it. She hated how she was leaving him yet again.

"Lass," he smiled reassuringly, "I will HUNT you down until I've found you."

She stared at him defiantly through the blur of tears, feeling as if a timer was counting down. The numbers were dwindling down to mere seconds.

He was pleading now, "Trust me."

She placed her hand in his and he gripped it tightly, the calloused skin gentle. And then his touch slid away and he ran towards the edge of the trees. As she turned her back she heard the clang of metal and the crackle of fire.

Her mother gently grabbed her hand and looked at her with heartbreaking concern but she shook her head and stared towards the swirling waters before her.

As they leapt and freefall overtook her, Emma squeezed her eyes shut and tried to memorize the way his hand felt.

"Find me soon."


	17. Chapter 17

He was washed up, beached, unable to maneuver himself out of this mess. God what had he been thinking. He would die here. Alone.

"What are you trying to play?" Cora's voice was shrill, "A hero in a villain's body? Oh you will_pay_. You will suffer for letting me lose them."

He felt his feet lift from the ground, the air trapped in his chest as he felt the constricting invisible pressure around his throat.

"L—let me. go. We can— st—ill get through." he gasped and choked, clutching at his neck ineffectively.

"Fool. You can't get me anywhere." her expression was frazzled, hair loose and snaking over her shoulders, "Who knows where we'll end up. You think I have time to waste?! You are useless. Worthless and dead to me."

She suddenly smiled, and he felt the pressure become unbearable as he squeezed his eyes shut. White spots and red flashes danced behind his eyelids. Alone.

_Find Me._

His eyes snapped open, vision blurry as his hand shot down to his belt and he tugged free his dagger. He was shaking, fighting the pressing welcome of darkness as he raised the blade.

"What do you think you're doing?" she laughed darkly, "You won't be able to reach me from there. You are going to die. So do so graciously, pathetic little pirate."

Drowning. Drowning, he could feel the last of his resolve thinning. With the last dregs of strength left within him he threw the dagger and his vision flashed out for a split second, blinking back in time for him to watch the slender metal bury itself into Cora's neck in a spray of scarlet.

The only sound he heard was the muted thump of a body collapse and the gentle rustle of cloth.

He hit the ground, choking for breath, the return of air to his lungs ripping straight from his chest to his stomach. He forced himself up, trying his best focus on pulling himself to the portal, noting that its breadth was rapidly shrinking.

He had to get through. He had just needed to give Emma a head start, of his own will this time. Of all the times to find a little sodding humanity. He was no hero. He wanted her. Selfishly. She was his, in his possession, in every vein. He wanted her almost as much as he wanted Rumplestiltskin dead.

Almost.

He finally found himself staring into the vortex of the receding purple magic, coughing as he spat tasted blood on the inside of this teeth. He stepped off the edge just as the opening closed off behind him. He prayed wherever he was going he wouldn't be stranded. Alone.

* * *

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Emma swirled the tepid contents of her hot chocolate around again, hearing the tinkle of the bell as the last of Granny's customers plodded out and the buzz of conversation grew distant.

She fingered her sheriff's badge unconsciously, feeling its weight familiar against her hip. Everything about Storybrooke was oddly comforting to her. Aside from the hot showers and pleasantness of an actual bed, she hated to admit how she also associated "home" with the place. And yet everything was glaringly wrong.

Nothing smelled like the ocean here.

More regret. She tried to concentrate on the way the warm chocolate brown bent around her spoon. Weeks of the nagging feeling became habit for her, and she welcomed its aching buzz in the pit of her stomach.

It served as reminder when she had none else. It was almost like he didn't exist. Everything in the forest, his cocky smirks… like Captain Hook were only two words in a book. She only had compass hanging around her neck and that ache in her chest.

The bell chimed with a gust of night air and Emma found herself suddenly facing her mother as she slid into the booth with flushed cheeks.

"Emma."

She groaned exasperatedly, "I heard you the first seven times okay?"

That got her an angry frown, "That's also seven times you didn't even try."

She opened her mouth to speak but Mary Margaret cut her off, "You have to stop pretending nothings wrong. It's been three weeks and it's like you didn't even come back with me. If you have to mourn, do it."

Her retort was indignant, "There's nothing to mourn over."

"So you're saying that Hook meant nothing to you?" her large eyes glinted accusingly.

"I didn't—" Emma stopped stirring and pressed her hands into the table, chewing on the inside of her lip, "He's dead. It's pointless to dwell on stuff I can't fix!" She hated how her voice shook slightly at the end of her sentence. Admitting it was the worst part. But it meant he had existed and she winced at the relief it brought.

There was then a hand on hers and she fought the instinct to pull it back, "You don't know that he's dead. He promised to find you."

Looking away, she tried her best to block any sparking of hope, "I'm being realistic."

She felt a kind pat on her hand and looked up to see Mary Margaret smiling sadly at her, "You know I didn't believe Charming at first, but the way things turned out I have no reason to doubt him now. Have a little faith."

She sighed in defeat and took a sip of her drink, not wanting to tell her mother just how lost her felt. She didn't want to acknowledge how much it affected her. That was a road that she was not going down. She wasn't going to come back the way she came… and that loss of control made her anxious.

A crash of the door caused both of them to flip their heads around to see the disturbance, Granny running out from the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands. Ruby stood there with wide eyes, breathless from what looked like an urgent run over.

"Emma… Emma we need you now!" she rushed in and grabbed Emma's arm.

"What? Ruby what's going on?"

"Rumplestiltskin. He's being pinned against the window of his pawn shop by a man!" letting go when Emma stood of her own accord.

"Gold's being attacked?" said, fingertips brushing her pistol, "By who?! I thought everyone reached a truce—"

"He's calling himself Hook—"

She didn't even give her a chance to finish as Emma's eyes widened and she pushed past Ruby out onto the main street. She ran down the block and caught sight of three silhouettes in the dark, then approached the scene to see David standing in front of Gold with a sword, anger hard set on his features.

"Hey!" three heads turned and she saw David relax. She pulled her pistol out and pointed it at the still shadowed individual opposite of her father and Gold, "What the hell is happening?"

The dark figure stepped closer and she saw the hard angle of his stubble lined jaw, his arms crossed, hook smooth silver against his sleeve. His head was bowed, thick set eyebrows pinched at the center.

Bright, grey blue eyes cut through the darkness as he looked up at her, something breaking in his expression. She lowered the gun slowly, pent up frustration, loss, and pain suddenly resurfacing at the sight of the apology in his eyes.

"Found you." he breathed.


	18. Chapter 18

There was no mistaking it was him. Her request echoed from the neatly folded and packed memory that she'd stored away so nicely. Now it burst to the front of her thoughts and taunted her. The craving to touch him and make sure he was solid and real was so potent it made her dizzy.

But he was here for Gold. Not for her.

Immediately what she had been so sure was relief and almost happiness at his reappearance in her life made her wary.

He took a step towards her and without warning David's fist shot out and connected squarely with his jaw. The half-smack half-thump seemed much louder in the quiet of the street and she could clearly see fierce protectiveness in her father's eyes.

"The HELL you did." he growled, "Why are you here."

Wiping off a small spot of blood that polled at the corner of his mouth, Killian replied, "Well that much was made obvious by this little confrontation wasn't it, _your highness?"_

Gold's smooth voice cut primly through the air, "Yes. It appears that my past actions are starting to catch up with me."

"Catching up with you? YOUR OWN WIFE." Killian let out a mirthless laugh, "You are fatally complacent, Crocodile. Is your death to be taken this lightly?"

Emma shuddered at the hatred in his voice. This quest for revenge cut deep, and this was the first time she was seeing it raw and unrestrained. He wasn't in control, she couldn't see herself in his eyes.

"You're not just going to sentence him like that." David's tone was hard, "This town is unstable enough without another power struggle."

Killian walked right up to him, grinning with deadly intent, "I suggest you move out of the way or this town will have two less people in power."

"STOP." she watched his head pivot towards the sound of her voice, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

He retreated slightly, never taking his eyes off her, "Stop hiding behind royalty, scum. Face me. Die a man. Oh… oh wait, no you'd rather die like the COWARD you are."

Emma stepped behind him and pulled his arm back, causing him to angle slightly away from her father and Gold, "Don't ignore me! You're playing by different rules in a different world now. You hurt anyone, nothing's going to stop me from handing you the consequences." Killian only bristled without budging.

"This obviously isn't going to fix itself anytime soon. Until we can figure out how to get him back where we came from he's not going to let up." David said, "Emma can you get someone to at least keep an eye on Rumplestiltskin and make sure that he's relatively secure or not going to try and start anything?"

She nodded, feeling Killian try to yank his arm away, and gripping tighter.

"I'm touched at the lengths you are willing to go for me." Gold bowed his head slightly at the three of them with a smug expression, "However I feel that my involvement in this particular incident has drawn to a close. If you'll excuse me."

"Running away now?" Killian's voice whisked like daggers outward, "You have any doubt I will give this up? Just because you have some cute little bodyguards?" David had his sword raised again.

"Emma, since you know him the best out of all of us, I'm leaving him to you. But you will confine him. And you WILL make sure he isn't allowed out unless you're watching him." David made to leave but she snatched her hand away from Killian's arm and put her hand on his shoulder,

"What?!" she was abruptly frantic, wanting no involvement, "How the hell am I supposed to babysit some deranged pirate—"

"I have ears Emma."

"Oh NOW you decide to acknowledge that I'm here." she flipped around him and gave him viscious glare.

"Look, Emma I don't care how you do it. You're the sheriff again. I just want you to make sure that no one gets hurt and I believe you can do it." David patted her arm and began walking away.

Killian looked tired, drained and hollow. She was torn between placing a hand on his cheek or kneeing him in the groin. Instead she turned on her heel and began stalking toward her place, trying to calm the overload of thoughts.

* * *

Flicking on the kitchen light, she threw her badge and jacket on the table, leaning against the edge and letting her hair fall to both sides of her face. She could hear his soft footsteps cross over to her, then stop close enough for the familiarity of his scent to reach her.

"I'd think you'd be happier to see me."

Bastard.

She lifted her head and gave him a cruel look, "Same goes for you."

He leaned against the table beside her, crossing his arms, "You had to expect what would happen when I got here, lass."

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, "That's the fucking thing Killian. I had no idea you would even make it. You were DEAD for all I know."

He opened his mouth to reply but she stood up straight and interrupted, "Really?! Did You think you could just_ show_ up here and try to kill people like it's not a big deal?"

The corner of his mouth twitched downward, "I've waited for this for so_ long_, Emma." He drew the word out maliciously and she felt he anger spike.

"Yeah well I hate to break it to you but in case you hadn't noticed, you're in the real world now!" she ran a hand through her hair and tried to even her temper.

"Why would that matter to me!" his expression darkened, "I'm this close and he will die and I HOPE it's the last thing I get to do."

Something snapped inside her, "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS HERE, KILLIAN."

He pushed his face right up to hers and met her raised voice, "THAT'S HOW IT BLOODY BETTER WORK."

"WELL FUCK THAT. THIS IS MY TOWN. MY RULES GOT IT?" She jabbed a finger into his chest, "I AM NOT JEOPARDIZING ANYTHING BY LETTING YOU GO COMMIT MURDER WHILE IM SHERIFF."

Without the control to stop herself she pushed drying glasses beside her onto the floor in one swoop of her arm. They shattered at her feet and pinged distractingly in little shards on the ground.

"D—damn it." She sank to the ground ignoring the cut of glass into her legs and hands, dipping her head so that he couldn't see the tears that stung down her cheeks. Hell why was she crying. She didn't do that. But between his return and his blood thirst and how much his existence shook her tightly knotted interior. She realized she was bleeding but couldn't bring herself to care.

"You know what he can do. How powerful he is. He's got magic, and he's ruthless and he'll get to you first. Threatening him was SO stupid." she forced her voice to remain steady.

"I killed Cora. I can more than handle his pathetic excuse of a person." he knelt beside her, "We weren't anywhere near a place where my goal was feasible before. I'm too close now. But there… are variables."

"And that automatically means its okay for you to make another suicide run?" she laughed pointedly, "I can't let you do that. Not after you finally turn up again."

He slowly reached his arms around her and waited, and when she didn't refuse him, he pulled her close, "Damnit, Emma. What else am I supposed to do? I am not going to hurt anyone you care for, but that's practically everyone here and they are so bent on protecting that filthy crocodile. I can't win, can I?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into his embrace, aware of the sharp pain in her shins where the sharp points dug into the skin.

"We always end up like this don't we?" he chuckled, "Blood all over the place and broken things. And me realizing how much I need you."

She met his gaze, "I'm still pissed at you."

He brushed her tears away with his thumb and crushed her to him so hard it was almost painful. But she didn't protest, didn't resist. He locked his arms around her like a cage and kissed the top of her head.

Slowly releasing her, he turned her hands upward so her palms were exposed and began to pick out the shards of glass from her skin carefully.

"It's pointless to argue, Emma… I'm stuck here until you decide otherwise. I won't go. Until things have to change I'll stay, alright?"

She heard the plinking of glass as he plucked crystal pieces from her skin, smelled the sweet metallic blood, felt his shape against her side. He was deflecting again. She pushed it aside, didn't want to worry about that.

"I'll stay."


	19. Chapter 19

The early evening sun sifted a slant of hazy light across the pages on his lap. Killian tilted his head back and rubbed his temples as he took a deep breath, trying to erase the words that swam even behind his closed eyes. House arrest was even more painful than he had anticipated, initially bearable with the exploration of the strange objects in this new realm.

He was forced to comply with the rules that Emma and her father had laid out, infuriatingly bound to the location where his prey sat upon a gilded throne. But after three days he began to feel the cruel, dragging boredom in his every motion, turning to the dusty bookshelf that Snow White had not touched for some time, having moved in with her prince and leaving Emma with the house… and with him.

It was as if they wanted to make a mockery of his weakness for her.

The past few days, he had been careful not to present himself prominently in Emma's life. He maintained a distance from her at all times, most often meaning he would be in altogether separate rooms when she was home. What stopped him from seriously attempting to exact his vengeance seemed to be completely tied to her happiness, in protecting the people he would have to hurt to put himself at an advantage.

She was an annoyingly distracting hindrance in the precious time he had to thoroughly smooth out a plan forward. He found himself making excuses to go down to the kitchen when she was busy filing reports while chewing on a strand of hair, sometimes trying to even prod her into an argument for the mere sake of seeing her face flush red and her eyes spark with anger.

Being in her presence was being caught out at sea with dead air, no wind to move in any direction. He could wrest his way out of her grasp easily, but some undercurrent, dark and dream like, rooted him in place, content to watch her go about daily life with ease. She seemed content enough to have him on the periphery of her life, but sharing a house with bedrooms practically adjacent to one another meant that his meticulous attempts to create a rift between them often failed entirely.

There was electricity in every mistaken touch, a growing pull even as they said less and less to one another that nurtured his self-revulsion.

* * *

_She'd fallen asleep on the floor in his arms, curled into his side and breathing evenly. She seemed too drained to move, even slightly, intent to remain where she was, as if she wanted reassurance that he was there. But a glass covered floor was no place to remain, and as gently as he could, he lifted her easily in his arms and combed his fingers through her hair, scattering dustings of crystal shards like rain._

_Slowly walking up the stairs he pushed into her bedroom and used his hook to lift aside the covers. He lowered her onto the mattress, reaching over to pull the blankets around her, when he felt a hand on his wrist._

_"Emma?" he tugged his wrist away and found her eyes half lidded, brow furrowed._

_"You're leaving."_

_He remained motionless, "I was plainly not doing a very good job of it."_

_She tucked her face into her shoulder, muffling her words, "S…tay?"_

_He felt himself tense at her request, knowing just how much he needed to get out of there. This pull, this irrefutable desire to have her close again made his feet move of their own accord. He pulled off his shoes and removed his hook and sat at the edge of the bed, wondering how many drinks it would take in the morning to convince himself that he wasn't backing into a corner._

_As he lay down beside her she curled into him, wincing when her cold nose buried itself in his chest. His willpower was waning, draping an arm over the soft curve of her waist and letting her ankles tangle around his. She was warm and fit perfectly into him just like the first time, looking peaceful with her eyelashes dusting over her cheeks. _

_He needed to distance himself, she was blurring his vision, diverting his attention. She was taking every single hate charged thought and diffusing the gripping anger. He was failing himself, he was failing Milah. And he needed to fight her off, give himself no other reason to exist._

_She was the better half of him. And maybe the part that made him not the worst of the humans in the world._

_She yawned and shifted, stirring up the slightest scent of vanilla from her covers and pillow and his thoughts trailed off turning instead to forcing himself to behave. He nuzzled the top of her head and left the inner detest for the morning's battle._

* * *

His head snapped up when the front door jiggled and opened, Henry stepping through very at ease. He wasn't supposed to be there, his mother requesting he stay with his grandparents until her "Killian situation" had been resolved.

"Mom?" Henry walked around the staircase and froze when he saw Killian, "Um… hi!"

"You are Henry I presume?" he appraised the small boy and chuckled at his enthusiasm.

"You're Captain Hook." the words were a matter-of-fact statement.

"Was it my hook that gave me away?" he raised the smooth metal curve and thumbed the tip.

The boy ignored the jibe, sitting on the couch beside him and caused him to lean back in surprise, "You helped my Mom get home. That's sort of out of character isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Surely I am allowed my few good deeds when the occasion suits me?"

"Yeah maybe." Henry shrugged off his book bag, "I was hoping you'd be some kind of scary, revenge-crazed pirate."

"I am under house arrest for a reason." he chuckled, the boy growing on him. If anything he was a welcome distraction from the buzzing monotony. He noted the two wooden swords laced to his side.

"That is a fine blade you have there." he stood and pulled one free, impressed at Henry's calm towards the invasion of his space.

"Yeah David's trying to teach me how to it." he unsheathed the second one and pointed it at Killian, "I'm not very good though."

He laughed, "Your mother seemed to think the same when she first fought me. She was wrong. Let's have a go."

He whirled and swung out at Henry's right, met with a clack of wood as the boy hastily whipped his own sword up, "Not bad, but so stiff. Fight me like you aren't afraid to hit me or trick me into stepping into it myself— fight like a pirate."

They crossed swords over and over again, dancing around the kitchen and living room and half way up the stairs, heedless of the things they knocked over in their path. He let Henry gain the upper hand but never enough to win. They both froze on the steps when they heard an exasperated sigh with the bang of the door opening.

"I think I'm in trouble", Henry whispered, not turning around.

"Then I suggest you do the scoundrel thing and get out of here before she unleashes her wrath." he winked and tossed him his sword.

He watched the little brunette head bound quickly down the steps and around Emma before she could catch him and watched her lean against the door frame with a frown.

"So I see you get along well with Henry?" she sighed and walked forward, stopping at the base of the stairs. She looked up at him with calm in the blue of her eyes.

He walked down a few steps, "He's quite good with the sword. I think he'd make an excellent pirate."

She strode up to the step just below where he stood and he saw her smile confidently touch a challenge in her eyes, "And I think that's not happening. I don't need a mini you running around."

She was too close. The lightheartedness of his fight with Henry seemed to vanish and the atmosphere darkened considerably. All his careful efforts to avoid testing his restraint were going to go to hell. He was weak. He didn't know when he started equating her with the success of his vengeance, but irrationally and desperately his struggle to pull himself away from her made sense.

It wasn't a question of falling for her, but that he couldn't and he wouldn't.

He tried to take a step back but she cut around him, pressing herself into his side as she made to brush past him. In a low voice she said with her eyes turned to the ground, "Look who's running away now."

He caught a trace of vanilla from the rustle of her hair.

He barred her path with an arm, palm pressed against the wall, she turned to look at him and he dug the tip of his hook into the wall on the other side of her so that she was caged in between his arms. He leaned in so that he could feel the flutter of her eyelashes on his cheeks, her lips a hairs breadth from hers. It took all his control to keep the position, tilting his head ever so slightly and watching her from behind his mostly closed eyelids.

"Is this what you want Emma?" he felt a shiver travel from a quiver in her lower lip down his spine, "This is what not running away means."

He slowly moved in and caught her mouth with a slow, burning kiss. He parted her lips slowly—the touch was soft but hungry, and the contact was pressed, hard. His hand traveled from her shoulder down the length of her arm then brushing up her shirt against her stomach, feather-like. He pulled away from her mouth to kiss up her jaw, catching her earlobe between his teeth.

No control, his slow deliberate motions were dissolving. He wanted to devour her whole, drink her in until his head swam. This was what he wanted, what tore him to shreds and leered at his thoughts.

He wasn't consciously there for her, he doubtlessly would hurt her. This was instinct, and it drove him mad.

He swirled his tongue along her collarbone, feeling her lean into every breath he sucked in. She captured his lips and slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the kiss and drawing him deeper. Her small moan and the feel of her curves against his hard desire branded in his thoughts like a siren's call. Her hands were drawing patterns on his chest, clenching and unclenching as they rolled against each other.

"Tell me— You want me." he choked out as he broke the kiss to work at the button on her jeans.

Her eyes snapped open, as if she was suddenly aware. She shoved aside his arm and ran up the stairs and left him there breathing hard. But if he was going to fall to his temptations then she would too. She would know just how deeply she had infected his being.

He swept up the stairs and paused in the open door to her room. It was dark, the only light filtering in ghost-like through the window and only revealing her shadowed outline, arms wrapped around herself as if to protect. He walked in slowly placing his hand and hook on her hips and pressing his lips to her throat, light butterfly kisses. His stubble scratched against the thin skin. Her pulse was hummingbird's wings against the give of his mouth. Her hand instinctually was at the scruff on his cheek.

He nipped at her jaw as he spoke through his teeth, "I'm not running Emma. Does that scare you? Because bloody hell Emma I want you."

Her hand retracted slightly, fingertips grazing his chin, "I'm… going to pretend that I'm not wrong about you. I have to pretend I'm not going to regret this."

He spun her around so her hair spilled over her shoulders as he settled his hands back on her hips, her hands pressed up to his chest, "You may not have to pretend if you're right."

He was taken slightly aback when she crushed her mouth to his, hands trailing fire up his chest as she tugged his shirt over his head. He tore hers to shreds with his hook as his mouth warred with hers urgently, sucking at her lower lip as she nipped his tongue with her teeth. Slowly he maneuvered her backwards towards the bed, sliding her jeans and underwear down easily and gripping the supple curve of her bottom.

He sat her on the edge of the mattress and walked her to a lying position. He felt her mouth find his breastbone, igniting a line licking right down his core, savagely swirling her tongue at his naval before breaking away and pushing back up to let him undo the clasp of her bra. His mouth was at the peak of each breast immediately, sucking on the sensitive flesh until she bucked against him and groaned. He steadied his hook against the bedframe and hooked her legs around his hips, feeling the heat of her core brush against his own hardness. He shuddered hard and rolled his own hips.

The pressure against his pants line was painful, and he forced the tight leather off, feeling his shaft brush against the wetness between her legs.

He grunted and pulled back, drinking in the soft white lines of her body, "I've been resisting far too long…Gods you're beautiful Emma."

She smirked and sat up, nipping the tip of his chin, "Show me."

His lips found hers again as he grinned against her mouth, brushing his hand down her stomach and lingering for a second at the opening of her core. His thumb stroked hard over the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and her gasp clicked their teeth together as she assaulted his tongue with her own.

He felt her arch against his hand, the raised goose bumps on her stomach meet the chords of muscles in his. Slowly, he pushed a finger then a second into her and she whimpered, hands fisting in his hair. Sliding in and out rhythmically she clenched around him and he growled, feeling his own desire agony between his legs.

Dragging his fingers from her, she surprised him by sitting up and inching him backwards until her back was against the wall, breasts pressed to his chest. The light from the window melted her long tresses into streaks of starlight that slid around both their shoulders and framed her face. Even the darkness of his features was illuminated by her.

"Turn back now Emma. You were smart to do so before." he couldn't put much force behind the breathy words, "I can't give you what you want."

Her blue eyes were illuminated, flecked with silver by the thin sheen of sweat on both their skin, "Damn it I was walking into trouble from the moment we climbed that beanstalk. You're wrong this time, I want you Killian."

She hooked her legs around his hips again and sank onto his length, and then every nerve in him glowed white hot as he thrust into her. Meeting her halfway. He ached to the every fiber in him for her, murmuring incoherence against her shoulder, beside her ear. His hand stroked her breasts and belly, alternately gripping her hips and her tights wrapped around him.

He was wrong, he was hateful, every movement he reveled in the splendid feel of her. He was human.

He moaned as she spasmed around him, felt her breathing and her heartbeat, clamping around him and dragging her nails down his sides. His eyes snapped open, blue met blue, and the "Killian" that was dragged from her throat and the "Emma" that he breathed were both lost as he found her lips again. He let out a shout, and pulsed within her as he came.

He didn't let her go as they laid back down, nose buried in her hair. She didn't say anything, just stared at him with those sea blue eyes. So he hummed a soft song and waited for her to sleep.

Letting go would be impossible now, there was no way out.

The scent of vanilla swam in his thoughts until he dropped off to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hard laughter filled the air, shrieking tinny laughter. He had to force himself not to clap his hands over his ears and shut it out. The snakelike eyes rolled back in their sunken, leathery sockets._

_The thin glow of red light caged between the gnarled fingers. He couldn't step forward. She was dead if he tried. Laughing—still laughing._

_He grit his teeth and kept his gaze fastened on the heart. He had nearly known death himself. Those claw-like hands around his life source. Now hers was…_

_He stared down at the woman in his arms and saw nothing. The pulsating heart consuming his mind, his thoughts maddened by every visible shudder of the light._

_He heard her speak. It sounded like I love you._

_And then the hand he hadn't realized was at his face dropped to the deck and the head in the crook of his arm lolled to one side and he was screaming and there was even more infernal laughing._

_His vision focused._

_She had beautiful blue eyes. The kind he wanted to swim in. Her long sunlight hair drifted as a kind afterthought through his fingers._

_But her name didn't sound quite right when his stomach dropped and his howl of pain ripped past hist throat._

_It should have been Milah._

_IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MILAH._

_Not…her._

* * *

Emma felt herself slowly regaining consciousness with a shiver as she sifted through the usual layers of morning grogginess and inched forward to let the patches of sun warm her cheek pleasantly. She didn't remember the last time she'd gotten such a good night's sleep, content to let coherent thoughts form themselves slowly.

And sluggishly, the pieces of the night before began to reassemble themselves. His fingertips at the curve of her waist, every scrape of his teeth over her neckline. And when her eyes fluttered open, she realized she was alone with a cold pocket of space at her back.

She nearly jerked upward, his name threatening on her lips with a violent curse, in a flutter of sheets. He'd left hadn't he. Gone off somewhere, left her in the dust or go find Gold while she was out. And just as she was about to swing her feet over the side of her bed she froze and found his back to her, sitting hunched around himself at the edge opposite her.

She slowly lifted her legs back onto the bed and scooted so that she sat cross legged beside him, his bare skin feverish to the touch when she rubbed her hand against his back and tried to catch his gaze.

She was suddenly, and sort of violently, pulled into a tight embrace, pressed up against his slightly damp chest and feeling its rise and fall against her cheek.

She let him calm down, not moving an inch until his hold slackened and he relaxed into her. He kneaded gentle circles into her back with his thumbs, tracing the outline of each raised bump on her spine. She recognized his state as soon as she'd seen the taut muscles on his back, his head bowed as if he was bearing a heavy load, how tightly he pinned her to him. Emma dreamed about death all the time. And no one was usually there to reassure her when she woke up.

"Hey." she pulled back and put a reassuring hand on the back of his neck, pulling her forehead to his, "It was just a dream okay? I'll light a candle just let me go get one—"

He pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off with a hungry kiss, tilting her head back and slowly pushing her onto her back as he settled between her legs.

He broke away for air as he studied her, smirking tiredly, "As if I would let you leave. I finally have you in bed and you want to scamper off so quickly? Nonsense."

She caught the end of his sentence between her teeth and tugged his upper lip playfully, humming contentedly when he growled and leaned in.

"We need to talk about this you know." She flipped over and straddled his abdomen, pinning his arms to his sides and giving him a serious stare.

"I know." and he raised his eyebrows and sighed, "But I do not wish to revisit the unpleasant thoughts so casually. At least let me have you a little closer, love"

She rolled her eyes and sild next to him, finding a comfortable spot on his chest to rest her head, "Better?"

"Much." he said nuzzling her hair.

He was quiet for a few moments, and she knew he was considering what to say, "Emma, do you ever wonder what the hell we are doing?"

She exhaled, "I've been wondering that from the start, Killian. It's nothing new."

"Strange, that should be my answer as well. But it isn't. I've never questioned it until—" he fell silent.

"Until now?" she said, slightly agitated.

"I feel like we're going to burn everything to ash. Or for that matter, I will. And not so much what I am doing, but why I am." she felt his hand drift absently back and forth across her shoulder blades, "You are riding straight into the jaws of hell in my arms Emma. I feel like I can't let you subject yourself to—"

"I've been living it for 28 years Killian. You're the closest thing to a ticket out that I've had." she murmured.

That earned her a chuckle that tickled as it rumbled through his chest and against her ear, "My my, is that a compliment? Are my ears deceiving me?"

She nudged him, "Let's hear that dream of yours."

His voice darkened, "It was simply a recurring nightmare. With a slightly… unfamiliar ending. I'm afraid that's all you'll hear of it Emma. Talking about it only encourages ill thoughts and bad luck."

She leaned up and kissed the edge of his jaw, trailing her tongue up the defined line and bringing her lips to his ear, "Then why are we talking?"

He dragged his mouth down her neckline and sucked at the sensitive hollow just before it smoothed into her shoulder. He moved onto her, capturing her in a searing kiss as he massaged her tongue with his and pressed his hardening desire into her hip.

He broke away long enough only to rock against her and tease, "You are asking me lass?"

* * *

His footsteps tapped gently down the steps as she turned around to find him dressed in David's clothing, a clean flannel shirt and worn grey cardigan, his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

"Any reason you have me wearing these ridiculous garments?" she couldn't find it in her to respond, only staring at his transformation with what she didn't care to admit was appreciation.

He looked… good.

She stood by the door and secured her sheriff badge at her hip, holding it wide open as she turned her gaze to him. He didn't seem to notice her gawking and raised an eyebrow with a curious expression.

"The sheriff shouldn't be late for work now, should she lass?" he leaned against the rail of the stairs.

"No, which is why you should hurry up." she motioned out the door.

He appraised her for a moment, "You mean to let me out of this infernal house?"

She rolled her eyes and began to leave, "If you'd rather stay—"

"No no," he quickly pushed past her, "I'm just surprised the ringleader is letting the lion out of his cage."

He grinned wickedly as they stepped out onto the main street together, "Aren't you afraid I'll cause trouble? Sneaky, sneaky Swan. Disobeying your father like that."

"The condition was that you could be out as long as I made sure you didn't cause trouble" she maintained a brisk pace as she headed towards the far side of town, "And I'm not going to take my eyes off you."

"I would despair if you did," she watched his grin turn into a warm smile as it dawned on her that he had quoted himself.

"Seems like it was forever ago." she laughed self-consciously as she neared her destination.

The late afternoon sun spread itself with breathtaking iridescence over the marina, the masts of docked boats bobbing with every satin wave that rolled in. She could hear gulls screech above them and smell the salt hanging thick in the air. It was his scent, more distinct and comforting. She remembered somewhere in the back of her mind that she'd hated patrolling by the docks specifically for the smell.

Killian inhaled deeply next to her, closing his eyes for a moment as if to take it in.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this, Emma." he turned to her, "The sea… it's like coming home."

Suddenly he began walking forward and she chased after him abruptly, "Hey—whoa! Killian what are you doing?!"

"Why, taking one of these little dinghy's out of course!" he smirked.

"It's private property." she hissed urgently.

"Then you'll just have to come over here and arrest me." he taunted, and began working at the riggings.

Emma glared hard and stalked over and was about to drag him away when he suddenly began explaining what he was doing, pointing out the knots he tied to secure the boom, raising the jib and tugging her wrist so that she was in the boat also. And she listened halfheartedly at first, but eventually began helping him, caught up in his enthusiasm which she had actually never seen before. He looked alive.

"Emma?"

Her head snapped up and she saw David standing across the street with a strange look on his face.

She immediately stepped out of the boat and walked quickly over to him trying to come up with an explanation, "Hey… David we're—"

Her dad shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder, "Don't bother. Listen. I don't like the fact that you've been spending so much time with him."

She raised her eyebrows, almost defiant, "I'm spending time with him because I have to. On your request, you know that time you asked me when he was trying to kill Gold?"

He rolled his eyes and ignored the quip, "You know what I mean Emma."

"Yeah, I don't need you looking out for me David. I can handle myself. This guy is dangerous. I get that and I'm taking responsibility to make sure he isn't going to try anything—"

"I'm not saying that for the people in town Emma. I'm saying it for you." he sighed and looked over at Hook, who was leaning against the bow with a frown, "He's not an open book and I'd be damned if he wasn't hiding anything. I'm worried about you. Getting close. He's not going to give up revenge just like that."

"Can you at least trust me enough to say that he's got something real in there?" she nudged herself away and began edging backwards, "Maybe I'm tired of suspecting every little thing someone does. And hey, maybe you're wrong about it this time."

She watched David relent and relax a bit, smiling as he turned away, "I hope you're right Emma. I'll let you handle things, but if you need me just shout okay?"

She turned and called over her shoulder, "Got it."

She walked back over to Killian and he looked at her indifferently, "And here I was just getting ready to set sail. Are we to leave now?"

"No. I managed to talk my way out of that one—" she nearly lost her balance as he pulled her into the small vessel and up against him.

"Then there isn't a reason we are still docked, is there?" he undid the rope that secured them to the dock and the boat drifted outwards as it caught a small breeze.

Killian adjusted a few last things as he pushed a slender black rod that was attached to the rudder back and forth. He handed Emma a thick rope, "Okay tug on this hard."

She did as she was told and nearly flattened herself to the bottom of the craft as the thick metal boom swung over her head. He let out a laugh as she sat up with a disgruntled expression.

"Oh and duck. Forgot to mention that part, you'll have to excuse me."

But Emma felt a pleasant wind on her cheeks as she noticed that they were sliding through the water at a slightly faster pace, pulling away from the docks and out towards the open waters, the sun having that haunting luminescent effect on the waves again.

She started at the sound of his voice and realized she'd missed what he said.

"What?" she turned to find him standing close behind her, a fierce look in his eyes that she hadn't seen for a long time.

"I said, you should smile like that more often, lass." he chuckled, "It mirrors in your eyes in a very appealing way."

She huffed and turned back around, leaning against his leg, the foreboding feeling of the morning and David's warning fading.

Anyone else would have locked him in jail and taken him for an evil that had to be repressed. But she saw good in him. The sailor, the man in oridnary clothes, the boy with nightmares. And that was enough for now.

It could have been anyone who'd gone up with him on that beanstalk.

But it was her.


	21. Chapter 21

"It's right… here." she said, walking up to the toll bridge standing squarely in a long part between the trees guarding the riverbanks. The light grays of evening began to deepen into a rich purple nighttime as she wandered over to the center of the bridge and leaned against the rusted railings.

"You brought me on another little field trip for a bridge?" she watched him saunter over lazily. He wore his usual smirk, but there was tiredness under his eyes, a slight slump to his shoulders.

"You needed to get away from that house. Three days, after that first morning, of waking up in the middle of the night screaming Killian?" she crinkled her eyebrows, "That's one hell of a dream."

He took his place beside her, arm touching hers as he let out a long breath, "And the place you thought of taking me was a bridge?" He barked a laugh.

She smiled confidently and pointed, "Look up."

He turned his head towards the sky and she saw his jaw relax and his eyebrows to twitch upwards ever so slightly. If she hadn't been looking so closely, she wouldn't have even noticed a change. But following suit, she stared up at the huge expanse of the sky, flecked with silver light.

He tapped her shoulder and she caught his gaze, mood brightening in spite of herself when she saw his easy smirk reemerge, "You see that one? Up there?"

Her eyes followed his guiding hand, catching a curiously bright fleck of a star above them, "That's… Neverland right?"

He nodded, "Second star to the right—"

"And straight on 'till morning," she finished for him.

He let out a short chuckle, "You could say I wasted away up there… plotting and crazed."

She looked at her feet, waiting for him to say what weighed between them for days on end.

"You expect something of me, lass." his voice was pointed and frustrated.

"No." she kept her gaze on the ground, "I think I'd be scared to get whatever it is I'm waiting for."

"There's nothing to fear if it is only a dream" he sighed, and brushed his hand over hers, "Rumplestiltskin has her heart and he's squeezing and laughing. And I'm watching the life flicker out of her eyes. It's smoke before I can react. She says I love you. I have no words for her when her chest rises one more time and stills."

Emma didn't move, "I… think I understand."

"No." his reply was curt, "No you do not."

She looked up at him, slightly irritated, "What's not to get Killian? Milah still haunts you."

"You. Haunt me."

She she snapped her eyes up and saw him glaring hard at the sky.

"You really are something to me…" he bit off the sentence, still looking up.

"Something huh?" and suddenly it was out in the open. They had danced around it over and over because of pride, selfishness, a sense that whatever "it" was sentenced to some abrupt fate. They were ramming against the same wall over and over and hoping that it would break while they continued to build it higher.

"I don't know what else to say, Emma." he said as he grabbed the sides of her face and crushed his mouth to hers. It was desperate, and hard and she responded gently until his lips softened and he could mould to her.

Slowly pulling away, his eyebrows pinched downward and she saw him clench his teeth, "Damn you. Damn this. I've gone mad haven't I. I hate myself all the more for it."

"You're scared I've replaced her." she couldn't keep the accusation out of her voice, "You're scared I'm changing you."

He looked at her with a fully unguarded expression, cold and pained.

"I'm the villain of the story."

As if that explained everything that pushed him farther and farther from her.

His face was emotionless as he stared ahead. He betrayed nothing, hardly a stir of life in his features except for a blink every so often. The frankness and dry honesty of the sentence dropped to the floor like the short metallic clattering of pins. What surprised her most was how easily it slipped from his mouth, all the weight of the blame pressing in. He was admitting nothing, but explaining to her like she didn't understand something unspoken.

She didn't try to understand. Before her right then he was just a character in a book, no more than an airy description and no more real than the dreams that haunted their sleep. She inadvertently reached out and touched his jaw, like she was testing to see if he really was there.

"There's no glory in such a role." he chuckled darkly, "I'm meant for one thing. I'm not meant to have a happy ending."

"What are you _saying_, Killian." it wasn't a question.

"Goodbye."

"What?!" she stepped in front of him and forced his eye contact.

"You misunderstand, love. Not right this very moment." he tried to touch her shoulder but she stepped back, "In advance, just as reassurance that I said it."

She shook her head, at a loss for words. She didn't know why it hurt her so much. Why she just knew this meant something awful. But when he reached out again she locked her arms around his neck and pressed their foreheads together.

"You say it like it's going to happen." she didn't hold back the disgust and anger.

His reply came like an apology, "I say it like I want your happiness when it does."

* * *

She had seen it coming. Hell, it was right in front of her.

She woke up but two days later and the bed was cold. His clothes weren't strewed haphazardly across her floor. There was no sound from downstairs. And fuck she was dizzy when she pulled herself off the mattress and stumbled around as she dressed.

Where? Did it even matter? Gone was gone and she'd fucking seen it coming.

She choked on a breath and coughed violently as she ran down the stairs. Not sure where she was going as she strapped her pistol and sheriff's badge to her hip. She was tearing down the main street in minutes and out towards Gold's shop. But he wasn't there. She tried the docks then the toll bridge and came up with nothing.

It didn't make sense. If he crossed the town line, he was gone for good. And then it hit her. And she started running.

By the time she saw the simple green sign at the edge of the town line, she could make out his lone form, staring at the neon orange line painted on the asphalt.

She didn't remember calling to him, but when he turned around she screamed his name again. She stopped a few feet in front of him breathing hard. Finally aware of her surroundings and forming slightly coherent thoughts. It shouldn't have been a relief to see him, but the calm washed through her as she approached.

"Emma—"

"Don't you _dare_, 'Emma' me." she gave him a poisonous look, "Did you think I was going to let you off so easy? What the hell do you think you're doing."

"This. Us. Whatever we care to label it. It's destroying the two of us. It was a mistake, coming to care for you this much. Suddenly I have something to live for? Suddenly I have delusions of being happy? It's a lie Emma. It's a goddamn bloody lie." he looked like he was begging her, "I see her face. I see yours. And fucking hell I see the Crocodile's. My hate hasn't diminished. But now I'm being pulled in two directions, between getting what I've always wanted and having everything I never knew I did. Not hurting the people you care about."

Her voice was deadly, "So you're willing to risk forgetting. Everything."

"You don't understand, lass—"

"I damn well understand that you're leaving, don't fucking patronize me Killian." she tugged her pistol out and pointed it directly at him, "I'm not going to let you you. I'd sooner shoot you in both your legs."

His voice turned hard, "You would have done so already if you'd meant it."

She laughed a high, mirthless laugh, "And you would have already stepped over that border if you were serious. Stop playing games with me, Killian."

He twisted his hook between his fingers "I'm not playing, love. You're so bloody difficult to walk away from. I—I can't explain the kind of torture it is."

He took a step sideways as if he was turning away, her voice dropped to a threatening growl, "Take one more step, Killian. I fucking dare you."

His eyes snapped in blue electricity as he stared her down, "There isn't a choice."

That's when she lost it.

"YOU MADE THIS A CHOICE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO TAKE ME UP THAT BEANSTALK."

He was silent for a moment, as if taken aback by her sudden outburst.

His gaze glossed over for a minute and he spoke mechanically, "I would have regretted every moment henceforth if I hadn't decided to trust you Emma. You were one fucking hell of a distraction—"

She threw her hands down and swayed on her feet, feeling sick, "IS THAT IT? I'M JUST SOME KIND OF FUCK BUDDY? OR I WAS JUST A COMPLICATION THAT GOT TO BE TOO MUCH AND YOU JUST DECIDED YOU COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE SO YOU WANTED TO LEAVE ME HERE JUST LIKE EVERY. OTHER. ASSHOLE.—"

"EMMA." his voice broke when he screamed at her to cut her off, a stream of silver moisture sliding down his cheek as his cool composure dissolved as well. It was enough to silence her as her expression turned pitiful, pinched in sadness.

He seemed to lose his train of thought for a minute, then steel himself.

"I love you."

And he stepped across the barrier as she screamed and leapt after him, watching him tell in pain and crumple to the ground. She fell to her knees and pulled him roughly into her arms, shaking and crying as she shouted over and over again.

"I HATE YOU. YOU ASSHOLE. COME BACK. I HATE YOU."

And she kissed his closed eyelids and sobbed until she couldn't breathe whimpering "Come back. Come back." As if willing it would make it so.

His eyes snapped open suddenly and she nearly choked on her words as she begged, "Killian?"

The world went dark as she felt herself slump over, the innocent "Who's Killian?" ringing in her ears.


	22. Chapter 22

_Emma._

_She felt his lips at her ear, a smile in his voice._

_Emma._

_She leaned into the strong sureness of his chest._

_Emma, love._

_He was soft as he pressed his lips to her temple, stubble scratching familiarly against her cheekbone._

_Emma wake up._

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was David, practically hovering over her face and she had to force down the shout of surprise. Emma quickly scanned her surroundings and found that she was in her living room on her couch, a knitted blanket tucked around her shoulders and the slant of afternoon light uncomfortably in her eyes.

It was like waking up with a bad cold, her head hurt obnoxiously and her face felt swollen and her limbs weak. She couldn't even breathe through her nose, let alone have the strength to deal with everything that had just come crashing down.

"Hey Emma." David sighed in relief and sat on the couch, giving her even less space than before. It prevented her from curling up and protecting herself, but she allowed it anyways.

"Mmph- How long was I out David?" she bit her lip to stop the next question that was about to slip out.

_Where's Killian, is he alright?_

Her dad's expression stayed uncomfortably serious, "About four hours. I couldn't-Snow saw you run past Granny's and told me to follow."

She paused, "...How bad was-?"

David rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath, "Not completely horrible. I had a hard time getting you to let go of him and back home. And then you just sort of let it all out until you fell asleep. It was just... really tough to see you that way."

She didn't say anything, her memory jumping between disjointed scenes. One with David's hand stroking her back as he hushed her. One with Killian shoving himself away from her with fear in his eyes. But what she couldn't shake was the last thing he'd said.

I love you never sounded more horrifying to her.

_Emma what's wrong?_

_She shook her head as he hugged her more tightly to him._

_Do you want me to go?_

_She shook her head more fervently._

_Of course not, lass. It is me after all._

"Emma." David came back into focus, "Are you alright?"

Her tone was clipped, "Yeah I'm fine." She tried to get up but shuddered through a wave of nausea and dizziness as she sat upright on the couch, feeling more and more exhausted the more she fought to regain herself. She buried her face in her hands and tried to focus on breathing evenly.

David cleared his throat awkwardly, "You want to talk about it? To me? Or your mother?"

Emma shook her head slowly, unwilling to let the lump in her throat reassert itself. There was nothing to talk about. Killian was dead.

Her dad rubbed the back of his neck and sighed with a conflicted look, "It's irreversible as far as I know. While you were out we talked to him at Granny's..."

She lifted her head without meaning to, and smiled- or grimaced rather, at him, "I want to hear this David it's okay."

"He wasn't part of the original curse, so he didn't have an alter ego... but the magic at the town line isn't questionable. He's the way I was when I first woke up from the coma... but... he has no identity to find." he stopped and immediately looked at her, and she let out a breath she didn't know that she was holding.

She had been listening for a way. Any hope. And her hands came up empty and her heart came up short.

Heavy silence fell between them, David only managing to stare at her worriedly. She could see the look of concern on his face and tried to lighten up. She would be okay, and as pathetic as it sounded, she was used to it.

David gave her a quick hug and stood, "I'm going to get us some dinner okay? I'll come back with Snow and Henry if you want."

She genuinely smiled at him this time, gratefully but she didn't trust herself to speak.

As he pulled on his coat, he paused with his hand on the door and opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. She got up and walked over to him ignoring the drunken feeling that rolled in her stomach.

"He did it for you, I think. But please don't think too hard on it okay kid?" he said as he walked out and shut the door behind him.

That was it, not even the "I told you speech" that she deserved. As if she didn't know. Was she supposed to be grateful? Glad that he wasn't a heartless asshole? As far as she could tell, Emma should be blaming herself for forcing him to that. And she wanted to smack him upside the head for leaving her at all. But she decided to simply be tired and think about it later. If she delayed it long enough, she could forget too.

She had to resist the urge to crawl back into bed and forced herself to smother any self pitying thoughts. The pain and anger was clear and stabbing, but it helped her focus more than drowning in her own thoughts.

Of course it took until after he was gone for her to understand his motives, his drive, his life. Anger had kept him living after Milah had died, kept his heart beating... And she had dulled that. She was still a royal fuckup after everything.

_It wasn't a bad dream was it?_

_She smiled and kissed him in response. He grinned against her lips and pulled away._

_You're making me soft, love._

_She exhaled with mock offense._

_I don't mean to say that I wish anything otherwise_.

She started when she heard three knocks and realized she was still staring at the closed door. Sighing, she walked over and opened it, and her heart leapt to her throat.

Killia- whoever he had become was leaning against the doorwat, his hair messy and his blue eyes concerned. But she knew it wasn't him when she saw them missing their fierce edge... She almost couldn't recognize him.

"David told me you were in..." he said gently, "I thought I'd come check up on you... you were passed out in my arms and... well-"

She opened her mouth but she couldn't say anything. More than anything she wanted to push him out the door and slam it shut, hoping that she could bury the dead an move on.

"I'm sorry, love but I never got you name." He extended a hand in greeting. "I hear you're the sheriff in town."

"Call me Emma." she managed to force out blandly. She saw his lips twitch up in a half smile. She took a minute to remember the rest of the pleasantries, feeling the strangeness of the words stick in her throat, "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

He was a devious pirate with a dark sense of humor. He was a broken soul and a fierce lover. He could sing well, but didn't like to do it often and was incredible with a sword. He was abrasive but passionate and he loved to bury his nose in her hair and taunt her whenever he got the chance.

He was taunting her even now. Being all of those things, but none of them at all.

"Well... I didn't find out until a few hours ago." he chuckled uncomfortably, but seemingly unaware of the weight that she felt clinging to the air, "But apparently, my name is Killian. Killian Jones."

_But around here you are known by a more colorful moniker, Hook. _She suddenly remembered his original introduction, wincing at how similar this one was. "Yeah, David just let me know what happened. Has it been tough for you so far?"

He shook his head, "It's been... sudden, and disorienting. But not having a clue as to where I am or... who I am for that matter, I feel like I should trust all that seem to know me here. David was it? Apparently I had been in an accident."

She nodded. David knew what he was doing, smoothing things over with a reasonable explanation, making sure everything seemed normal-

"But... I have to ask." Killian shifted awkwardly, "How did you come to know me?"

She froze, not knowing what to say. She couldn't just tell him who he was, that wouldn't make sense to him. That would drive him away. He was standing right in front of her but he was dead. He was haunting her. He was haunting her for her own sake.

Because he love- had loved her.

She struggled to come up with a reply, trying her best not to lose it in front of him. her nails digging into her palms.

"Hey Mom!" Emma's gaze locked in on Mary Margaret, walking up to the door with Henry smiling and waving beside her mother. Killian was looking their way also, stepping to the side as they approached.

"Oh I'm sorry, were we interrupting something?" Mary Margaret's eyes locked onto hers and didn't move as she spoke, concern brimming in them.

"No no, I was just stopping by." Killian turned to Emma and she forged a bright smile at him, "It was a pleasure to meet you Emma. I hope we will talk again soon."

And with that he walked down the hallway.

Henry was immediately hugging her tightly as she bent down and wrapped her arms around his small frame. Emma stared back at her mother's expectant expression and said, almost pleading...

"I need to leave town."

_It was a bad dream, Killian._

_She tucked her head under his chin._

_Is there anything I can do for you, lass?_

_She bit back tears._

_Just come home._


	23. Chapter 23

"What?" Mary Margaret jolted forward with wide eyes, "You didn't actually mean that did you?"

Henry's soft hair was a safe place for her to bury her nose as Emma blocked her view of Killian's turned back. The frustrating feeling of wanting to let out all the pent up turmoil that came with her fraying nerves was trying to force itself out in a wordless shout. So she focused on his concerned expression and tried to smile instead.

"Yeah, Mom. What do you mean you want to leave?" he looked slightly hurt and she pushed a few brown locks away from his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere without you of course, kid." she relaxed when his expression regained its usual cheerfulness.

She looked up to find that her mother was still giving her a death-glare, and she sighed and pushed Henry back.

"Go inside and get your homework done. I'll cut you a deal and we can watch Peter Pan together later, alright?"

Ironic. Unintentional, but a punch-to-the-stomach ironic.

"Can we order pizza too?" he smiled innocently, but she still saw the note of mischievousness in his eyes, "Y'know, because you owe me for not picking me up afterschool?"

She glared affectionately at him and ushered him inside, "Don't get smart with me or pizza's out of the deal."

As she slowly shut the door and faced Mary Margaret, Emma bit her lip nervously and tried to formulate some coherent, reasonable excuse. But her instincts twisted in her stomach and she could only arrive at a short, impatient fragment. She muttered it under her breath.

_Have to get away._

"Have to get away?" Mary Margaret's hand found its way lightly to her cheek, "Why do you want to do that? I can't read your mind, Emma. You have to try and let me understand."

"I can't help you understand it if I don't even get it." she turned away in frustration, "What makes anyone do anything." Emma rocked backwards and her shoulders thumped against the door. She couldn't tell a story that never should have existed.

Her tone suddenly turned accusatory as her gaze flashed up, "What makes anyone fall in love?! Who's brilliant idea was that?"

"Are you saying you were—" Mary Margaret's puzzled expression only deepened.

"_He_ was. He was in love and he didn't even ask me if it was okay." she banged her fists back into the wood, "He was always there. Always! So why didn't he just ask me." She knew she was acting like a child. She didn't care. To hell with it.

She could have been stopped him, she—_should_ have stopped him.

Mary Margaret stared at her expectantly, like she was supposed to say something else. This wasn't a test for god sakes, she didn't know where to start. So judgement was lost for a minute when quietest confession slipped with a tremble of her voice, "What if I loved him too?"

Those words had never been spoken before. Love, him, too… Never allowed, and always repressed when they entered her thoughts.

And suddenly she was enveloped in a hug, as if her mother had known that the cracks would split all along. Emma's shaking was quiet, and there were no tears. But it was crying, it was weakness all the same. Yet she was glad that she had a shoulder to lean into. Mary Margaret hushed her gently and smoothed her hair, and for once she didn't protest to being comforted. For once she didn't know how to pick up the pieces and not cut herself again in the process.

Because that was the main difference. Every single time something went wrong, she wanted to forget. Every single time she wished someone had come around with a magic eraser and taken the memory away. And that was the difference for the first time.

_She didn't want to forget. She didn't want to let him go._ Even when he finally gave her the freedom to.

Irony. What a bitch.

A gentle voice broke her train of thought, "Remember when he left you hanging the first time? When I caught you two— well, I sat you down and asked you how long it had been? I knew, even then, that you loved him. Nothing _makes_ you fall in love, Emma. It's a choice."

She pulled back and fussed with the mussed blond tresses, "He came back. You remember that. He came back and laid down his life for you to get back home." There was a long pause and Mary Margaret smiled sadly, "If he did it once. Why can't he come back again?"

Emma shook her head, " That's all blind hope. Hoping for something is too risky. I've done a hell of a lot of pretending and wishing and waiting. But hoping? Never. I've learned my lessons. I'll lose more every time I hope. I'm not going to leave permanently. I just have to get away."

Her mother's smile dissolved into an understanding, but short nod, "Where will you go?"

Emma straightened herself out and opened the door a crack, enough to pull her coat off the hanger and shrug it on. "The bar for starters. Tell Henry I'm sorry and I'll have to take a rain check."

* * *

Dim lights and crammed bodies into a tight, rectangle room. Sixth shot of the strongest stuff they had and Emma still couldn't get her mind to blur enough. Every thought was still sharp enough to shred her insides to tattered ribbons. Some of that stuff that she'd stolen from the house in the woods, that would be more effective.

It'd gotten him drunk enough to sing.

Or maybe it wasn't the drink itself they'd gotten drunk on.

What a great thought. He wouldn't even let her drink in peace.

Today had been just so fucking _pleasant._

She waved at the bartender for another and pushed her face into her hands, trying to let go of her stubborn hold on coherence. Oh yeah, now she wanted to forget.

"You look like you could use some company." she snapped her gaze to a barfly who had staggered over, leering at her behind half lidded eyes. The smell of dirty laundry already had her in the mood to deck him and save the pleasantries.

"Actually, I'm good." she said, turning to the shot glass that had been refilled and replaced in front of her. She downed it and traced her finger around the rim, ready to give him a good shove— just in case.

"C'mon honey, let me buy you another. You can hold your shit down really well." He slouched into the stool next to her, "That or it's been a hell of a day. Tell me about it sweetheart, what's your name?"

She edged away as he leaned closer, gritting her teeth as her patience wore thin, "I said. I'm. good."

"Ooh, touchy are we? I like them feisty." She was about to lunge forward when her suitor was suddenly lurched to the side and knocked to the floor.

"Hey man what the Hell!?"

And standing in his place was Killian, a look of fake remorse plastered to his smile, "Apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going."

As the barfly stumbled off, Emma raised an eyebrow at him. She was grateful but not ready for this, "I'm there sheriff you know. If I happened to have seen that…"

"Then you saw nothing." he grinned, oblivious to her suddenly darkened mood, "I would say I feel bad but quite honestly I do not."

She allowed herself a smirk, almost mistaking his demeanor for someone he wasn't.

"I should get home." She stood and found herself sway on her feet, nearly losing her balance had Killian not grabbed her shoulder and steadied her.

"You've had more to drink than I think you realize," he chuckled, "Will you allow me to walk you home Emma? I think you're done for the night."

"There a reason you're so interested?" her voice was sharper than she intended, of all times now her head was in a fog.

"Try trusting me, love. Maybe I just want to help." he looped his arm around her waist and she flinched. She fit comfortably into his side, familiarly, as he eased her outside and let her lean her weight on him.

Oh she had already gone down that road. And all he'd done was leave her stranded. But maybe as an apology for that time on the beanstalk. Maybe as a last acknowledgment to everything that had gone right. She allowed it.

She recognized the feel of him, the spread of his fingers over her waist. All natural, and still all out of place. Her body recognized the man that was holding her, and it was hard in her intoxicated state to remember that she did not actually know him at all.

They walked down the street at a lazy pace, neither of them speaking as they slowly made their way towards her home. She tried not to relax, but being pressed against him eased the ache in her chest. Closed the gaping hole just a little.

When they reached her building, Emma sighed and untangled herself. It was late, and she was suddenly feeling sick, but she made forced eye contact with him.

"Thank you." she said stiffly, and started to turn away.

"Emma wait." his voice held a strange note that she almost could identify, "I still want to know the answer to my question."

She shook her head and closed her eyes in exasperation, "I can't answer that, Killian."

"I don't understand." he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"You wouldn't be the first one to tell me that today." she snapped.

He suddenly closed the distance between them, as if by habit, and she resisted the urge to step back, "Please, Emma. I want to understand."

Maybe it was because he was so close. Maybe because she was tired and drunk and miserable. Maybe it was because just knowing that he was still breathing and living and in her life. Maybe somewhere in her mind she remembered someone somewhere in this fucked up town said something about the most powerful magic. True love's kiss.

Maybe she had started to hope.

Emma leaned all the way in and caught his mouth with hers, feeling him freeze in surprise. It was half a second, probably less, but she felt him begin to return the contact, part his lips when he suddenly yanked himself away, a look of shock in his eyes.

She already knew she'd made a mistake.

The frustration quickly overtook the surprise, a touch of angry confusion hardening his jaw, "What the hell was that? I ask you one. _One simple question._ You refuse to answer me and yet you act like you move between mourning and taunting me all at the same time. Do you think I want any part of your games?"

His face was graced with a scowl, his eyebrows drew together and his voice had dark undertones, "I don't even know who I am!"

"I'm sorry. But you were the one that wanted to find out, alright." something inside was breaking as she realized just how much he looked like the person that she remembered. Anger sparked life in his face, the hard glint in his irises she was so familiar with.

He may have thought himself the worst in the world for her, but she would take him angry and broken any day. She would take all the bad over whatever this was.

This was not him.

He sounded exhausted when he continued, "I don't know who you think I am, but I don't know if I can be him. I have no memory of you. You can't know me. You don't—"

She told him to wait a moment and turned away, disappearing into her house. Returning outside, she had a thin gold chain pressed in her hand.

Thankful that he hadn't left yet, she opened her palm, revealing the golden compass that started it all. She held it out to him. He took it guardedly, studying its delicate form. Then she walked back to the door to her home, the tears she though she had drained squeezing past her eyelids.

"You're right." nearly suffocating as she felt herself relent and let go, "I don't."


End file.
